#and having to lead with the fact that mike's okay (all things considered)

[mikelogan]

My partner might spend the rest of his life on wheels! You want Lobrano? Too bad. You send Elvis back to Colombia.

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

"We're gonna get out of here, I promise"

pairing : mike munroe x (fem) reader

cw : mike has a gun, talk of death, and blood, and maybe like one swear I don't know. reader is referred to as mike’s girlfriend, but other than that i don’t believe any female pronouns are used.

a/n : i know this is kind of late since the until dawn remake has been out for a while but i kept procrastinating this after I started it. anyways #needthat.

The wind pulls at you from every angle, hair clinging to your sweaty, frostbitten cheeks. Adrenaline kept your body moving through the never-ending maze of trees and snow; you didn’t think it would last much longer. You were sure if you continued in this direction, eventually, you would reach the sanatorium. 

It was marked on the map in the cable car station, the same map you had seen before you made your way up to the lodge with Sam and Chris. That was hours ago, and you wish you could go back and warn yourself to go back down the mountain. Or even better, ignore Josh’s email altogether and stay home. Play sick. You’d say anything not to be where you are, right now. 

But that’s not possible, is it? 

Your clothes are sticky with blood. Not your own, you think. You hope. This night was not turning out the way you had expected it to. And the choices you had made leading up to this point were beginning to make your stomach turn the longer you thought about them. 

Why did you leave the lodge? You could’ve stayed on the kitchen floor after that psycho knocked you out; you could’ve pretended not to hear Chris’s attempts to wake you up. You could’ve looked for a phone instead of rushing into the snow to find Ashley. Speaking of them, why had you left Chris and Ashley? You could’ve returned to the lodge with them to find Sam after witnessing your friend be sawed in half, but no. You needed to know that Mike was okay considering you hadn’t seen him since you both arrived. 

Why did you start that argument with Mike before the two of you had left for the lodge? 

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“You're getting jealous over nothing. We’ve talked about this, there is nothing between me and Em. I’m with you. I’m in love with you. Why does this keep being brought up?”

“Maybe because she texts your phone like you're still close? ‘Text when you and the new gf get here, can’t wait to see you, winky face’,” you push his phone towards him. “She knows who I am, why does she feel the need to refer to me as the ‘new girlfriend’ as if we’ve never met? And why is she sending you winky faces? Why exactly is Em so excited to see you, Mike?” You make a point of emphasizing her nickname which seems to flow off his tongue so easily. 

“You’re looking into this way too much. This is crazy, I mean come on, that’s how she texts everyone, baby.” He gently takes his phone from you, throwing it onto the bed and reaching back for your hand which hovers in the air. You let him, but you make no effort to hold his hand back, fingers only resting in his hold. A soft sigh leaves your lips. 

“Yeah well, I’m not loving that she texts you that way and I’m also not loving the fact that you’ve said nothing to her about how weird it is. You have no problem defending her when you talk to me, so why can’t you say something to her about how I feel?”

“If I said something it would just cause a fight between me and her, or you and her, and the last thing that anyone needs up there, especially Josh, is for all of us to be fighting. Can you pretend to like her, only for the weekend, and then you never have to again.”

“You say that every time she’s involved, ‘just pretend to like her for tonight, and then you never have to ever again.’ But I will, because for some reason she is always around. I figured when Matt and she started dating we would see her less but I guess I was wrong.”

“Please, let’s just go and get it over with. We’re doing this for Josh, remember?”

“I don’t know, Michael, something about spending an entire weekend with your ex-girlfriend isn’t really appealing to me anymore. Call me crazy.” His eyebrows soften as you use his full name, especially in that tone. He is enjoying this conversation less than you are. 

“Don’t be this way, we’re already packed and ready to go. Just come downstairs and get in the truck. She won’t bother us, baby, I promise. Come on..” He attempts to pull you, gently bringing your hand closer to him. But your fingers slip from his hand, dropping to your side. From the bed, his phone buzzes, the screen lights up, and you don’t have to look to know who’s messaging him. 

“Sam told me she's taking the bus up there, I think,” you look back to him, “I’ll just head up with her so she doesn't have to go alone.”

“But then I have to go alone. And the bus leaves in like an hour, that's barely enough time to get ready and get to the stop. You're being ridiculous, just come with me. And if you want to, we can talk about this on the way up.” 

 You look away from him, missing the way his face falls as you turn your back to him. “I’ll see you up there, Mike.��

If you had just let it go, believed him, and gone with him instead of taking the bus with Sam, you would’ve never been angry with each other at the lodge. Or rather, you wouldn’t have been so furious with him because you would’ve talked things out in the truck, kissed, and made up instead of stewing in your thoughts on the bus. You wouldn’t be worrying about whether or not he was alive right now. But you were stubborn and foolish, and now you are trudging through the snow, improperly dressed, and praying the person you love is still breathing on this stupid mountain. 

You cross your arms over your chest, preserving what little warmth you have left, and with every step you lose another piece of hope. All you can think of is him. And how, if he is dead, he would’ve died thinking that you were mad at him. You weren’t even angry, annoyed for sure but not angry, you were just being stubborn and taking your frustration out on him. Now you might never get to apologize. The thought makes your stomach churn and your steps falter as a wave of nausea overtakes you. 

But, finally, in the distance you see the outline of a large building surrounded by a brick fence that appears to be falling apart. You allow yourself to be comforted, just for a moment, by the sanatorium's existence. The nausea in your stomach ceases as your steps quicken, arms uncrossing to move through the air. You reach the gate, blocked by the large pile of snow blocking both sides, not that you think you could’ve pushed it open in your current state; blocked from snow or not. 

You let your hand trace across the gate's bars as you walk towards the side of the fence. The pads of your fingers sting from the cold metal but you keep them where they are. As you move, they follow, moving from metal to brick. The only way into the sanatorium courtyard, you realize, is to climb over the stone fencing. 

A tired sigh leaves your body. You place your hands on the wall, palms stinging from the snow-covered surface. You lift your body, throwing your leg over simultaneously, climbing on top to straddle the snowy stone. The action uses more energy than you realistically have left so instead of gracefully landing on the other side of the wall you fall, directly onto your back. At least the pile of snow beneath you cushions your fall a tiny bit, but it still takes you a few minutes to recover your breath. 

Using the wall, you find your footing again. The snow falls from your clothes as you stumble towards the sanatorium. You don’t even know what you were expecting to discover here. You figured there might be people here. Maybe a construction crew, getting ready to tear the old building down. A custodian, forced to stay and take care of an abandoned building. Or on the slimmer side of chance, a large group of stable nurses and doctors that would offer you and your friends shelter and much-needed medical attention. However, the closer you get, the more you realize how fucked you are. Nobody is out here. And it was stupid to believe there would be. 

But you’ve come this far, and the chill that runs through your body borders on hypothermic potential. You reach the front doors, using your body to push the door open, shoulder first. It opens far easier than expected, and you fall to your hands and knees as it flies inwards. “Fuck.. me.” 

You don’t move from the floor, the opposite actually, you get closer to it, falling onto your back. You don’t even want to get up. No one is here. All your friends are probably dead back down by the lodge. What’s the point? At least this way you’ll have time to think over every choice that led you here, it’ll take a while for the cold to kill you since your feet are the only part of you still lying outside the building. From farther within the entry hall you hear a door open, the sound of steps echoing through the empty building. And though your heart rate picks up speed, you don’t move. Instead, you pray that whatever it is, will kill you quickly so you can be with your friends again. So you can be with Mike. 

“Who’s there? Whoever it is, just know I am armed and I am not afraid to shoot you. I have had one hell of a night and I am so not in the mood for.. whatever it is that you want.” Even with your heartbeat drumming against your ear canals, you still pick up the voice. A man's voice. Almost recognizable. You let your eyes close, murmuring the only thing you can think of like a mantra. Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike. 

“Holy shit. Y/n?” Mike? You turn your neck enough to see the man approaching. A sudden second surge of energy fills you, and you lift yourself into a sitting position to fully face the figure walking towards you. 

“M..mike?” 

“Holy- Oh my god, how are you- Are you okay?” He falls to his knees in front of you, dropping the gun and the lantern in his hands on the floor. His hands hover around you, scared to touch you. You notice that two of the fingers on his left hand are missing, replaced by a bandage soaked in blood.  Your hands are the first to make contact, landing on both sides of his dirty face.

“Are you real?” He nods, pulling you into a too-tight embrace. A stark contrast to his previous concern and reluctance to touch you. 

“Yes. Yes, I’m real. I’m so glad to see you. You’re alive.. holy shit I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“You look terrible” You wipe away some dirt from his face. Eyes wide as you try to convince yourself that he is actually in front of you. You had convinced yourself that he was dead, and now to see him in front of you alive and well - okay maybe not well but he’s not dead - it has your brain moving a mile a minute. There is so much you have to say. So much you have to explain to him. How do you explain to someone that his friend was sawed in half on the anniversary of his sister's death? Or how do you explain that the rest of his friends might ALSO be dead? And without sounding insane, how do you explain that you truly believe something is up on the mountain with you and that it might’ve followed you the entire way to the sanatorium? You can’t.  

“Well, I’m happy to see you too, baby.” He laughs breathily, unsteady. A laugh of disbelief. His way of coping has always been humor, even at the most inappropriate of times. Your features are probably the exact opposite of his uncertain smile. You pull him close again, practically pushing him to the ground, but his arms wrap around you and he straightens his back to keep the two of you upright. “Woah, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

You push your face into his shoulder, saturating the filthy, green jacket that he wears with tears. It stinks like cigar smoke, years of sweat buildup, and dirt. 

“Mike- Oh Mike,” your voice is muffled in his skin, pausing in between sobs to catch your breath. His arm wraps tighter around your waist, the other arm reaching up so his hand can rest in your tangled hair. “I’m so- I am so so sorry Micheal. I thought you were dead, I thought- I thought you died thinking I was angry. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. I’m just- I’m so glad you’re alive.” He kisses your temple, and as you raise your red face to look him in the eyes, he moves your hair out of your face. “We’re gonna get out of here, okay? Can you walk? God, you must be freezing. Did you come all the way from the lodge like this? Fuck, y/n, how are you even alive.” You shake your head, a silent confirmation that you don’t know how you’re alive either. 

He helps you to your feet, taking off the unfamiliar jacket and helping you into it. He then retrieves the lantern and the gun from the floor, “Here, can you hold this up?” You nod, and take the lantern from his hand. In the hand opposite of you, he holds the gun, and with the other, he intertwines his fingers with yours. “We're gonna get out of here. I am going to get you out of here, I promise.” He’s so certain, and your fear almost dissipates completely as he leads you farther into the sanatorium with a tight grip on your hand.

[specterllaw]

Y/n Specter - Mike Ross x Reader

summary: After Mike gets into a huge fight with y/n, he realizes he made his bed and must lie in it as y/n's older brother Harvey comes for revenge

Warnings: mentions of arguing, fist fighting

Two Weeks. Two weeks was how long Mike had been ignoring you. It wouldn't of hurt so bad if it weren't for the fact you saw him talking with Rachel every time you came in to have lunch with you older brother, Harvey. You two were close, but not close enough for him to really show feelings or affection towards you, and you were okay with that, he was a good listener and advice giver.

"I don't know what you want me to do! Y/n! It's all the damn time! I need to work!" Mike had screamed at you, you were shocked considering all you asked was if he was staying over at your place tonight or not. You took a gulp as tears welled up in your eyes watching Mike raise his eyebrows "Go." You took a step back as tears started to roll down your cheeks "I never thought when I met you, Sweet Mike Ross would turn into a newer more cruel version of Harvey" You whispered weakly backing away from his cubicle, before rushing back to your apartment, locking the door before going to bed where you'd stay for the next two weeks.

Harvey approached your apartment door, it had been almost two weeks since he last saw you for lunch and he was worried, nobody had seen you, not even Donna. He rolled his eyes at the thought of knocking and walked in "Y/n!" He called out into the dark apartment, he couldn't see anything. Feeling around in your apartment he found your curtains pulling them open to reveal the sunlight into your cluttered, messy bedroom. He turned around ready to continue his search before jumping nearly three feet off the ground followed by a high pitched squeal as he saw you now sitting up right on the bed. "Were you watching me the entire time!? Why didn't you answer me!? Why do you look like that!?" He screamed a hundred questions towards you. Harvey was worried, here his baby sister sat in a mess of her own clothes and blankets looking like a zombie. Your usual h/t hair was a complete mess, knots littered it everywhere, you had dark bags under your eyes, your skin was pale and you look like you hadn't seen the sun in days. "Harv..." You whispered looking at him, his face softened looking at you as he slowly walked to the side of your bed running a hand over your head trying to smooth your hair down. "I need my big brother Harv...not boss Harvey" You whispered quietly on the verge of tears "I'm here y/n/n" He whispered sitting next to you after clearing off a spot on the bed. "I've been seeing Mike Ross...Since he started at Pearson-Hardman...We got into a fight a couple weeks ago...now he's been talking to Rachel alot..I saw her car at his place when I went to see if we were okay.." You whispered taking in a shaky breath, Harvey huffed, he was pissed "You did the one thing I told you not to do!?" He asked loudly making you flinch and look at him before standing up hitting his chest "I quit! I quit! I want my brother back! Who would be there for me rather than yell at me for mistakes!" You whimpered trying to push him out of your room but he just hugged you "I'll handle Mike...Kids not gonna know what hit him..As for you..You're gonna shower...We're gonna get that hair fixed, get you back to the badass y/n I know, and then you and Donna will go for a girls day on me" He said resting his chin on your head, he lead you into your room then your bathroom before leaving you in there shutting the door on his way out.

After Harvey walked you out to the car with Donna, he was on his warpath, not stopping until he had Mike's head on a platter, metaphorically speaking of course. He stormed into his office after demanding Rachel send Mike to his office, he could tell by Rachel's face even she knew what was gonna happen was bad. Harvey watched as the little prick walked through the door, looking at him "Hey Harvey, I'm almost done convincing the Jesser's case on settling but Mrs. Jesser isn't wanting to-" Harvey cut Mike off "Cut the goddamn bullshit" He growled standing up glaring at Mike "What the fuck did you say to my sister?" Harvey snapped walking closer "I haven't done anything! My head's been in the case /You/ gave me for three weeks!" Mike argued back, Harvey grunted before taking a swing on Mike, feeling Harvey's fist connect with his jaw "I told you! Never to talk to Y/n Specter! I told you your first day. Shoot her down if you have to!" He yelled punching Mike every other word "But no! You had to take her out, wow her, then snap at her and treat her like she doesn't exist" He growled with such hatred he wanted to squeeze Mike's head until it popped "What!? I-I snapped at her yes after you threatened you'd fire me if I saw her any longer" Mike argued back before punching Harvey right on the nose. He staggered off of Mike leaning against his desk holding his nose as it started to pour blood, Mike could feel the blood seeping from his mouth, lips, under his eye, and his nose, and yet all he could think about was seeing you.

You didn't get home until around Eleven PM that night, you were startled by a Mike Ross sitting on your couch, a cold wash cloth draped over his face "Mike?..." You whispered, setting your bag down before taking a seat on the couch next to him, you slowly pulled the rag down gasping at his face. "Holy shit Mike" You whispered "Why didn't you go to a hospital?" You asked going to grab your first aid kit from the kitchen, when you got back you rushed to clean his wounds and bandage them. As you wiped his lip trying to get the last of the dried blood off you watched as he took in your appearance. "You told Harvey" He whispered looking at you, you sighed "i'm sorry..He was gonna find out.." You mumbled looking at him "Are we okay, Mike? You've been icing me out for days...what did I do?.." You whispered sadly, the relationship was perfect so why was it going down the drain right now? You felt his hand come up to cup your cheek, caressing his thumb over your cheekbone softly "Baby...You never did anything...Harvey..made this stupid threat...and I didn't want to risk never seeing you again even if it was just as friends in the office..so I backed off..but I realize I love you Y/n. I couldn't stop thinking about you" He ranted resting his forehead against yours, you sighed "So why were you always with Rachel?.." You whispered looking at him starting to lean away from his touch, remembering the betrayal you felt "I've talking to you through her.." He admitted looking down "So..all this time..thinking Rachel and I were actually talking about you..it was you talking about yourself?..I thought you were cheating asshole! You kept calling yourself the hottest man alive and so sweet you could eat and I thought it was Rachel!" You yelled slapping his chest, he laughed rolling his eyes hugging you tightly "I'm sorry! I was being honest! and I was trying to use like...girl power to make you forgive me..." He whispered, You giggled shaking your head pecking his lips repeatedly "You could use /your/ power to make me forgive you." You whispered grabbing his tie pulling him up to hover over you as you laid on the couch "Oh yea?" He whispered repeatedly as he pecked kisses all over your face and down your neck.

[hbyrde36]

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Chapter 2

Ch 1 ao3 link

*Eddie - 1986*

Dustin burst in the door without knocking. A habit Eddie had been trying to break him out of for years. One of these days he’d do it at the wrong time and see something he’ll wish he hadn’t. Maybe then he’d learn his lesson.

“So, don’t freak out but…”

“Ugh” Eddie groaned, pushing his face further into his pillow. “It’s never good when you start a sentence like that. At least let me get some coffee first.”

“Fine.” Dustin relented, stomping back out into the kitchen of the Munson trailer.

Ten minutes later and with coffee in hand, Eddie motioned for Dustin to continue with whatever nonsense he’d woken him up for this morning.

“I told the guys about Steve, about you knowing him.”

“Dustin!” Eddie shouted, incredulously.

“What? It’s not like it’s some big secret or something!”

“You didn’t know!”

“No, I didn't. But I should have realized, and I shouldn’t have said what I did the other night about him. That wasn’t cool. That’s why I told them, because I felt bad, and because I was thinking that maybe we could do a little investigation of our own?”

The kid meant well and it was sweet that he wanted to do something to make Eddie feel better, but what did he think he and a bunch of teenagers would be able to do about it?

Eddie shook his head. “I already told you man, his parents are loaded. I’m sure they left no stone unturned. What could we possibly do that they haven't already tried?”

Dustin’s face spread into a cocky grin. “For starters, Mike talked to Nancy. Did you know she dated Steve for a little while right around the time Will got lost in the woods?”

He had known that actually. In fact he vividly remembered catching the two of them in the boy’s bathroom that one time. He’d never thought about it in reference to Steve’s disappearance before though. The couple had broken up a few months before it happened.

“Yea, okay. So, they dated. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I'm not sure if it does, but the police never even talked to her. Mike said she was willing to talk to us about him, if you want.”

Eddie couldn’t believe he was actually considering this, but it was hard to deny how intrigued he was to learn more about Steve. Even if it didn’t lead to any answers about what had happened to him.

“You know what? Fuck it. Let's do it.” Eddie declared, slamming his now empty cup down on the table for emphasis.

“Language! I am a child!.” Dustin gasped, in a dramatic impersonation of his mother.

“Shut it, nerd.”

“You literally play D&D with children! Who’s the nerd now?!”

-

Eddie had never really had a full conversation with Nancy. They said hi in passing, and whenever he came to the house to play with the boys of course, but that was the extent of it. Now he was supposed to sit here in the Wheeler’s basement, like it was any other day, and talk to her about her ex boyfriend. Awkward.

Or, maybe not. 

According to Dustin, Nancy knew all about their game, including how she, Steve, and many others were used as characters in it. She understood their curiosity. She herself had always thought that there was something suspicious about the whole thing. That maybe there was more going on in Hawkins than a single missing boy.

“Do you remember the day in the cafeteria, when Steve got into that screaming match with Tommy and Carol?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, but I heard it was brutal.” He’d skipped out early that day to meet up with Rick for more product. The whole school was buzzing about it the next day, he could have kicked himself for missing the show.

“It was. I was shocked. I had never seen him act like that. I know he and I hadn’t been together that long, so I could be wrong, but It seemed so out of character. I mean, everything he said was true, and those two probably deserved it, but the three of them had been best friends for years. He never stood up to them before, so why now? It felt like it came out of nowhere.” 

She paused, taking a breath and gathering her thoughts before continuing.

“I remember him looking at me, just before he stormed off when it was all over. He didn’t look mad, it was more like.. I don’t know, scared, maybe?”

Well, that was a little ominous. Eddie and the younger boys shared a look as Nancy got up from her seat on the couch and started pacing.

“He called me later that night and asked me to come over so we could talk. When I got there, he stepped out onto the porch instead of letting me come inside. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but looking back, it was a little odd. We sat on the steps and he said that he was sorry, but he couldn’t see me anymore. I asked him if there was someone else, but he said no. He just wanted to be single for a while and concentrate on other things. It was fine. I don’t think either of us were too upset about it. We hugged and said our goodbyes, and that was the last time I spoke to him.”

She stopped pacing, standing directly in front of Eddie as she finished her story.

“I still saw him around, of course, and heard about how he quit the school teams. Which seemed weird, because, what was this more important thing he was focusing on? Clearly it wasn’t sports. Then he started skipping school, so it wasn’t about his grades either. I started to wonder if maybe he had gotten into drugs or something.” 

Or, he could have just been lying to let you down easy, Eddie thought, but that wasn’t very kind. Instead he said, “If he was, he wasn't getting them from me.” 

Dustin gasped. “Wait, dude, are you really a drug dealer?”

Fuck. “Um. No?”

“You are! You’re totally a drug dealer!” Dustin said, bouncing in his seat and pointing a finger in Eddie’s face.

Eddie groaned. “Please stop yelling ‘drug dealer’ before Mike's parents hear you and kick me out!”

“Does that mean you smoke pot?” Lucas asked.

 “Can we smoke pot?” Mike added quickly, grinning.

“Absolutely not!” Eddie and Nancy shouted, simultaneously.

He turned to her, hands raised. “For the record, I don’t sell anymore. Not since my supplier went to jail.”

Dustin’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh shit, is Reefer Rick a real person?”

Nancy gave Eddie a hard look.

“What?! We all used people from our life in the game!” He said defensively. “Look, guys, I think we’re getting off track here.”

“Is there anything else weird you remember about Steve from before he disappeared?” Will asked Nancy, speaking for the first time. Eddie threw him a grateful smile.

“Not that I can think of.”

“What about his parents?” Lucas asked.

“I never met them, but he always said his dad was an asshole. The way he talked sometimes, it sounded like they weren’t around a lot.”

The image of it flashed in Eddie’s mind for a moment. Steve, all by himself in that big empty house of his. Haunting its hallways in the middle of the night. He shook his head roughly to clear it. 

Maybe it was silly to think of it that way. What teenage boy wouldn’t love having the house to himself? No one hassling you or telling you what to do. He couldn’t explain why, but somehow he didn’t think Steve liked being alone.

Eddie was startled when Nancy placed a hand on his arm. She looked at him, face pinched with concern. He realized suddenly that they were alone. He’d been so lost in thought that he didn’t realize the boys had left. She saw him looking around and explained.

“I sent the boys upstairs for lunch. It looked like you needed a minute.”

“Yea, sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.” He got up to collect his things, and headed towards the basement steps.

“It’s the time of year. I get it, I've been thinking about him a lot too.” She said, following him.

Eddie shook his head. It wasn’t the same, she was allowed to think about Steve. To miss him. What right did Eddie have? “That’s different. You dated the guy. We weren’t even friends.”

“You’re allowed to miss him, Eddie.”

“No, I'm not.”

“He thought you were brave, y’know.”

“What?” He stopped walking, but couldn’t bring himself to turn around to face her. 

“He told me once, the first time I sat with him for lunch. You had jumped up on your table, ranting and raving about whatever had bothered you that day.” She sounded amused at the memory. “Tommy and the others sneered and complained, but not Steve. He smiled as he watched you. He said, ‘sometimes I wish I could be brave like that. Just stop caring about what everyone else thinks and be free’.”

He finally looked back at her over his shoulder. She smiled at him kindly, it seemed genuine so he returned the gesture.

“Thanks, Wheeler.”

-

Eddie didn’t stay to join the boys for lunch, though he did make plans to meet up with them the next day. He needed some time alone to process what they’d learned so far. He did his best thinking in the van, so he drove around town aimlessly, blasting Metallica and trying to sort through it all. 

Eventually he made his way to Loch Nora, slowing when he reached Steve’s street. He’d never been inside the Harrington house, but he knew where it was. There was no car in the driveway, so he rolled to a stop in front of it. A ‘For Sale’ sign was stuck in the grass a few feet to the right of the mailbox.

He hadn’t realized Steve’s parents were selling the place. Good, Eddie thought. It would make his next task that much easier. He’d come up with a plan, of sorts, as he cruised around Hawkins. The first step? A good old fashioned breaking and entering.   

-

*Steve - 1983/1984*

Two days after finding Eleven out in the woods, Steve cut ties with all his friends. He made a big scene out of calling Tommy and Carol assholes in the middle of the cafeteria, to really drive the point home. He turned himself into a social pariah overnight, anything to keep people from wanting to get close to him.  

He let Nancy go. It was easy enough. He found that he wasn’t even all that upset about it, he knew she wouldn't be too sad either. He’d seen how she looked at Jonathan that day at school, when the news broke that Will was missing. They would get together before too long, he was sure of it.

He quit the swim team, basketball, and only continued going to school because dropping out would be too suspicious. He started skipping days a lot. 

-

Eleven, who he’d taken to calling El for short, needed her own space. He would have loved to decorate the guest room for her, would have let her paint the walls and everything. Unfortunately, his parents still came home on occasion, and it would be too hard to hide. Instead, they worked together to fix up a space for her in the attic. Even when they were home, his parents never went up there. 

He didn’t know anything about little girls, but neither did El, so they figured things out together. He set her up with a T.V. to keep her company when he was gone during the day. He gave her a bunch of catalogs to look through, and told her to take a marker and circle anything she liked. Clothes, bedding, curtains, toys, he bought it all. Perks of the Harrington name, and a credit card with a high spending limit.

By the time her attic room was done, she finally felt secure enough to sleep in her own bed. She felt safe in the knowledge that her new brother wouldn’t abandon her as she slept, or lock her inside. Sometimes though, he would wake up to find she’d come into his room in the middle of the night. Almost always when it rained.

They quickly became a little family, he and El. Steve didn’t have any siblings, hadn’t thought he even liked kids, and certainly never knew how much he wanted a little sister until she came along. He taught her what he knew about the world, and in return he learned the importance of patience and kindness.  Together, they discovered unconditional love. 

For a few wonderful months, life was good. There was a little hiccup in January of ‘84, when eleven accidentally knocked a vase off the counter in the kitchen. It was fine. She caught it with her mind before it hit the floor, then levitated it back upright on the counter. It was the first time she’d used her powers in front of Steve. Powers he had been completely unaware of.

He’d hyperventilated for a while, but once he recovered he explained to her that, ‘No sweetie, I didn’t know you could do that, but it’s fine. I promise. No, I'm not afraid of you. It’s just another part of you, and I love who you are.’

It was another turning point for them, a catalyst that compelled her to explain more about where she came from. What sort of things they did to her at the lab, and she finally told him all about Papa and the other children. 

Steve had never pushed her on any of it, happy to just keep her safe, and wait until she was ready to talk. Once she did? Well, he was fucking livid. It was all he could do not to go to the newspapers, or Chief Hopper, and blow the whole thing wide open. Hell, he would have found the place himself and burnt it to the ground if he didn’t know for a fact that there were other kids living inside. 

In the end, he did nothing. Too afraid that if he was caught, or worse, there would be no one who knew about El, or where she was. There would be no one to take care of her.

-

It was all his fault. He should have known better. It was his job to take care of her, and he had failed in that task spectacularly. It was spring break 1984, Easter Sunday. He’d just wanted to take her out to breakfast, something he could remember doing with his own parents for the holiday when he was young. Back when they at least pretended to give a shit about him. 

They were as safe about it as they could have been. He picked a small restaurant two towns over, where no one would recognize them. She looked so happy when she smiled at him over her massive stack of waffles.

He didn’t see it for what it was, when the two nondescript white work vans pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Movies had him envisioning a legion of fancy black town cars pulling up on him one day, a swarm of dark suits surrounding him, demanding to know where the girl was. He should have known that Papa would be a bit more subtle.

The bell above the main entrance door dinged as a new customer entered. El looked up reflexively at the sound and her eyes went wide. It was the only warning Steve had before a tall man with white hair and an impeccably tailored gray suit slid into the booth next to him.

“Hello, Eleven. You’re looking well.”

Steve watched as she curled in on herself. Turning back into the little girl he found in the woods right before his eyes. 

“Papa.” She gasped, bottom lip trembling.

The man turned to look at Steve. “I’m Dr. Brenner. Now, don’t go getting any big ideas, young man. I have people on every door to this place. You’ll never make it to that pretty car of yours in time, and I can assure you that if you try, they will not hesitate to... deal with the situation.”

Steve froze, not remotely prepared for this scenario. He didn’t know what to do and was scared of making a misstep. He wasn’t afraid for himself, he didn’t care what happened to him, but he was terrified for El, and the possibility of losing his sister forever. 

“Here’s what's going to happen.” Brenner continued. “Eleven is going to leave this place with me, right now. You, Mr. Harrington, yes I know all about you, are going to go back to your life and forget that any of this ever happened. If you so much as think about telling anyone what you’ve seen, we will know, and we will come for you.”

“I’m not going to just let you take her.” Steve protested, heart pounding.

“You don’t have a say in the matter.”

“If you take her then you’ll have to take me too!” Steve raised his voice a little too loudly, drawing the attention of the other diners. 

“That’s not an option.” Brenner hissed. “I have no need for someone like you”

Steve lowered his voice to a whisper, knowing that angering the man further wasn’t going to help. “I’m not leaving her. I’ll die first. You’ll have to kill me right here and now in front of all these people. Do you really want to make that big of a scene?”

Steve could tell the man was considering it. “Please.“ He begged. “I'm sure you can find some use for me. I’ll do anything.”

Brenner sighed. “Very well. You will both follow me outside. Leave your car keys on the table, Steven, you won’t be needing them.”

The man slid out of the booth, threw more cash than necessary on the table, and walked out the door.

Steve scrambled out of his seat at the same time El did, and they collided in a desperate embrace. She was shaking, crying. Steve ran his fingers through her short curls. 

“I'm sorry El, I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

She looked up at him, blinking through tears. “It’s not your fault, they would have found me eventually, one way or another.”

“I’ll get us out of this somehow, I promise.”

She took a small step away from him and shook her head. “No, Steve. You have to let him take me. Only me. You have a life, parents, a family.”

He shook his head, taking her small hand in his. “You are my family El. I’m not leaving you. We’re in this together. You and me, always.”

Chapter 3

@penny00dreadful @buckleybarnes @steddie-there @yeahhhh-suga @goinsteddie @brbsoulnomming @the-s-is-silent @paintsplatteredandimperfect @estrellami-1 @herebedragons404 @epiclazershark @iaminmultiplefandoms @adaed5 @mentallyundone @hardboiledleggs @hotshot9 @manda-panda-monium

[elekinetic]

hi! i was just wondering what your opinions are on hopper, like, as a character? i've just seen so much slander for him and i was wondering about your own thoughts on it since you seem to have a good grasp of the show's characters. also, no pressure to answer if you don't want to, i'm just genuinely curious :)

hi!! i am so honored you asked!

so. hopper’s a shithead. i love him.

no but actually so, i think hopper is one of the most interesting characters in the show, and i think a lot of the hopper slander (and character slander in general) comes from having fundamentally different approaches to the show. and I don’t think there’s any one correct way to watch the show, but there’s a difference between looking at characters as people who are accountable for their actions and characters as vehicles for communicating themes and ideas.

(I wanna start with a disclaimer that I’m not really gonna touch how he exists as copaganda, especially as a character, who really does not subvert the hero cop trope. That’s a separate post and a whole other conversation — one that’s important when contextualizing our discussion of hopper, but for now I’m just gonna focus on his characterization and behavior within the context of the show. alright, moving on.)

hopper is not always the nicest person and doesn’t always make the right call, but he is so caring and protective of the people he loves, and he believes in goodness in the world. i think it’s really interesting to see that over the course of the show, part of his journey is relearning that there are good things, and that even though it’s painful, those things are still worth protecting. (it’s less so that he’s learning that those things are worth protecting and it’s more so that he’s learning to be okay with the pain of it.)

after losing sarah, hopper shuts everything down and everything out. and like, obviously. of course he would. there’s this really interesting part of his spinoff novel that talks about how when he was in the war, he was stationed in an area that exposed him to chemicals that could lead to birth defects or infertility in the future. and then he comes home and has sarah anyway, and then she dies of cancer. obviously he feels really guilty about that. I think it’s really really important to remember that that is a key part of his experience when it comes to analyzing hopper and considering his behavior.

i was re-watching the first couple episodes of season two with abby strangeswift and bats demobatman, specifically el’s conversation with him about wanting to go out for halloween. and i was really frustrated, right, because here’s this girl that’s been trapped in a lab her entire life and just wants to feel normal, and there’s really no end in sight to this new kind of confinement. but then abby and bats were talking about how there’s really no other choice and especially after losing sarah, he is not willing to put el at risk.

I think this haunts him through the next couple of seasons. he becomes so blinded by his need to protect and keep el safe that he loses nuance. especially with a kid as extraordinary and as hunted as el, hopper is so on guard all the time. and that’s frustrating! because then we see him as the reason el loses out on experiences that she should get to have. she should get to be a normal kid and do normal things like go to the mall and kiss her boyfriend etc. etc. but hopper is so keenly aware of the fact that el is not a normal kid and the world is not safe for her. he’s not willing to be the reason another daughter dies.

like i said, i think hopper makes bad decisions and doesn’t always consider the agency of the people he loves, but i think the reason that we see so many parallels between him and mike is because they are both protectors. fundamentally, i think their arcs are the same. it’s them learning they don’t always have to be the protector, that they can trust the people they love to love them back without being a defensive force. learning there’s a way to be protective without being overbearing or imposing on agency. 

and listen, hopper fucks up a lot. I don’t think the way he speaks to Joyce season three is OK and I think he owes her an apology. and I think he and eI will need to have a real conversation about why he acts the way he does and why he put the rules he does in place. (I don’t think people understand just how much danger el is in even when the upside down shit isn’t happening.)

hopper makes a lot of sense to me and his inner conflict is really, really interesting. if you’re looking at him as a person, then, yeah, it gets a lot harder to excuse his actions because they do cause harm, tangible harm. but i read an article recently that i think articulated really well why our progress as a society about discussing mental health hasn’t really solve the problems we need it to solve; that, despite introducing these therapeutic terms and emphasizing boundary setting, we still center ourselves in our experience of the world. (when you fuck up, youre learning—when your friend fucks up, they’re a narcissist, kind of thing.)

so let’s let both things be true. that hopper is not always making the best decisions and doesn’t always say or do the right thing, that he should apologize for that (which he has on occasion).  but he’s also learning and he should be given the space and grace for that. and yes, he’s 40. but people don’t stop learning and growing when they’re 40. you don’t hit 25 and suddenly you’re a perfect person. and this is a man who has been through a war, lost his four-year-old daughter to cancer he is sure he caused, struggled with addiction and depression, and at this point has been literally tortured by russians for months. 

but then again, hopper isn’t person. he’s a character. hopper does not exist to be accountable to his actions. he exists to convey a story, to communicate ideas. stories like this aren’t interesting without complicated people. he adds complexity to the plot and the relationships between characters. he informs el’s relationship with society and adults in her life. he gives joyce the space to be taken care of, to not be the mom, the hustler, the protector of her own family all day everyday. he fills out hawkins as a three-dimensional place, where not everyone is a wheeler-esque suburban wet dream. he shows that there is a path out of grief and depression. he shows that it’s important to lean on people and that isolation will just lead to further suffering. It shows that protecting other people is important, but so is moderation and communication. how do we learn those lessons without a character making mistakes that hopper does?

anyway, those are my brief scattered thoughts on hopper. i think he deserves more grace than he’s given by people in fan spaces, but i understand peoples hesitation to treat him as a beloved character the way they would treat el or lucas or will. he’s a very real character and doesn’t really fit the schema of a fave, i think. and i think the way people communicate their appreciation for his character doesn’t fit easily into the way people show their appreciation for other characters in fans spaces.

I hope this makes sense. 👍

[mywingsareonwheels]

I was thinking about the whole... what's more progressive debate out of m/m romance representation and actually close and tender (as opposed to buddyish) m&m friendships. And how utterly futile and insulting to the need for more of both a debate it is when we need infinitely more of both and a lot of other things.

Fundamentally, between the lingering after-effects of the Hays Code and the extremist end of Christianity (not that those two are unconnected) and the patriarchy (ditto) and militarism and capitalism... in mainstream Western story media we still struggle to get *any* genuine emotional intimacy that isn't:-

romance between a different-gender couple who are both cishet, and which if it's happy will lead to marriage (but hasn't yet).

marriage between ditto, but only if they haven't been together very long (after they have for a few years they're supposed to bicker all the time).

at an extreme pinch, fond closeness between blood relatives, especially if at least one of them is a woman.

Friendships between men and between women are okay so long as there's a... distancing of rivalry and teasing. If you can imagine one of them tucking the other in or stroking their hair (especially if they're both men) or being utterly and wholly in solidarity with each other (especially if they're both women)... hm, no.

And that's... it. We're still at a point in mainstream western media where anything that deviates from, especially to the extent of serious warmth and trust and confidence and understanding between the characters, that feels at least a little transgressive, especially in e.g. a blockbuster movie. We're still at a point where everything else is under-represented. Less and less so, thank everything, but still.

I'm thinking of some of my favourite relationships in fiction at the moment and how they fuck with those stereotypes and do better things (and always as part of awesome stories, because as always, good rep is important but it should never be treated as everything). :-) This is inevitably a v personal list, I'm not claiming that anything here is The Purest And Least Problematic Thing Ever, and this is very much just a, "this is what's enthusing me right now" thing. :D

yes they're a het couple and both cis, but: Mike and Alison Cooper in Ghosts. They have been married for a few years now, and they actually like each other. They're best friends as well as lovers, and I know that some critics have actually had a problem with this and regard it as unrealistic. [facepalm] I adore so much that they're not a stereotypical sitcom married couple, nothing like. In a quiet way they are utterly defiant and fuck completely with the genre.

Donna Noble & the Doctor in Doctor Who. I mean, do I need to say much more? :D Close, glorious platonic friendship between a woman and... the Doctor. Some of the most beautiful platonic love in any fiction ever and it's so tender and gorgeous and fun. Adore it. <3

Red, White, and Royal Blue is a silly film but omg I adore it and part of it is seeing all of those standard romance beats between two men. And with a lot more true closeness than a lot of het romcoms manage. We're getting more and more of this (we need more between women too, and indeed other queer romances of many and various kinds!!!). <3 <3 <3

yes, they're shit at expressing their love for each other most of the time, but I still stubbornly add: E Morse & Fred Thursday in Endeavour. The fact that they're inhabiting the 1960s-70s and there is no framework for their mutual affection and devotion is of course part of why things get so hard for them both. They don't know what to do with it or where to place each other in their priorities, but the loyalty and the tenderness is there, and some remarkable emotional intimacy at times considering who they both are. We watch and interpret it as father-son or as romantic or as fraternal or as an intense and wonderful (and complicated and difficult) friendship. But it defies easy definition and... and oh goodness well anyone who's been following me for any length of time knows how I can go on about them, apologies. ;-)

the entire Fellowship of the Ring, but especially Frodo and Sam. And whatever my mixed feelings on the PJ films of The Lord of the Rings, my Gods am I endlessly glad and grateful that they retained warmth and intensity and devotion and intimacy. I worry that it wouldn't have been if made now, with a more stereotypical masculinity so much in the ascendant in mainstream film-making (we really are in the midst of a patriarchal/homophobic/transphobic reaction :( ). As with Morse and Thursday, you can absolutely interpret some of the connections there as romantic (and we know that Tolkien was remarkably non-homophobic for a man of his generation and religion), or as platonic. Either way, what matters is that there's serious love there between male characters and that goes right back to the books. Tolkien could be problematic af, but I love him so much for how he writes masculinity and love between men. <3

Heartstopper, not just for Nick/Charlie and Tara/Darcy, but also because of Charlie's friendships with Elle, Isaac, and (especially, actually) Tau.

everything with Found Family, and especially everything with Found Family where there is no easy equivalence to a "nuclear" family to map the characters on to.

Honestly I could go on. Hooray for all of these! But also: we are still in a position where these all feel subversive and make a lot of the more bigoted critics spectacularly uncomfortable (even when there is no actual queer rep). We're still in a position where mainstream film series and some tv shows struggles with anything like this, and/or will sabotage a friendship between men and even an entire character arc because it's got too close and intimate and there's a desperate need to "no homo" everything (*coughs* Steve Rogers *coughs*). We're still in a position where romance between women and any romance involving trans people of any gender is dramatically under-everythinged (but that between cis men is also still not exactly even a fraction of where it should be). We're still in a position where honestly even the representation of romance between cishet characters is most often weirdly distant and lacks real closeness or mutual liking between them (often, let's face it, because the writers struggle to write women as people). I snarked a bit at first about the debate as to which is more important and under-represented between m/m romance and really open and loving m&m friendship, but honestly the main problem with that debate is that dividing up the exact same problem: we aren't going to get more open and loving representations of m&m friendship until the media get less afraid of the relationship being interpreted as romantic whether or not it is, by both fans and haters. (I.e. don't blame the shippers when a production company loses their nerve and trashes a friendship between men so that it's not seen as romantic! Blame homophobia. I mean, to put it on its simplest real-life terms, it's consistently my experience in the UK at least that het male allies are in general vastly more comfortable hugging each other than homophobes are.)

[excessive-vampires]

Dealing With Demons Chapter 4: That Didn't Go Well Part 1: Riley

Masterlist with CW

Taglist: @demyxdancer @softvampirewhump

No one asked Riley how their evening was the next day at work. They had no idea what they'd have said if someone had. Thankfully everyone was too wrapped up in the new murder to care about anyone's personal life.

Riley felt more than a bit uncomfortable being thankful for that.

Before they could get too deep in that thought the elevator doors dinged and Mike ran over to Riley's desk.

"Guess who found us a suspect while out interviewing persons of interest!"

"Really? A former classmate has ties to the occult?"

"Nope! But one of the teachers does!"

"Oh! Nice!"

"And that's not all, he's an English teacher and the first victim was a newly famous author. I think your profile is right, these are envy killings."

Riley smiled. They were proud of that profile.

"Me and Sil are heading over to the guy's apartment to interview him now, it's basically a recon mission, so we want you with us."

"Alright, I'll grab my suit from my locker."

Riley's smile faded as they turned away from Mike. They remembered how Avi had claimed they could identify if a suspect had made a deal. It would be irresponsible not to call them. But then they'd have to tell Mike and Sil about staying in contact with a demon... Maybe they should wait and see how the interview went and then figure out what to do. Who knew, maybe he'd have the summoning rune still set up in his home and all of this would all be moot.

......

The English teacher did not have the summoning rune still set up in his home. In fact there was no evidence beyond the testimonies Mike had collected from a couple of other teachers and a rather nosy janitor that the man had ever had anything to do with the occult.

"We're sorry to disturb you, Mr. Bell," Sil said as the trio left the apartment. "We'll be on our way."

Bell slammed the door shut after them.

Mike winced. "That could have gone better."

Riley did not want to admit to themself what they knew they had to do.

"If only there was some way to prove he's demonically connected," Sil said.

Riley put their head in their hands.

"Yeah, I wish we had a spell you could cast that would tell us if he's sold his soul or not. Hey, you okay Riley?" Mike asked.

"Agent Bishop?"

Riley had emitted a pained groan, and now they slowly raised their head to look at their companions. "Okay, I might have a solution."

"Well come on then, spill it!" Mike urged.

"Let's um, let's step away from this guy's door first, this might get loud. Okay, do you remember that demon we came across like a month ago?"

Mike visibly shuddered. "Um, yeah. How could I forget?"

"I had nightmares about that thing for days." Sil said.

"Well... I sort of... y'see the demon..."

"Did you see them again? Did they threaten you?" Sil's tone was very serious and concerned.

"They gave me their number."

The silence lasted long enough for Riley's face to go as red as a tomato. Mike spoke up first.

"I thought you didn't date."

"N-Not like that! They said, um, they said they wanted to be friends."

"What the fuck?"

Mike and Riley stared for a moment with their mouths hanging open. Sil never cursed on the job.

The rest of the confession spilled out of them. "And last night I asked them if they could help out with the case."

"You did what?!"

"I was out of leads to follow, Sil, I just—"

"You could have died!" With Sil going off like this Riley felt like a child being scolded by a teacher.

"I don't think they want to hurt me. I think they just want to make sure the Bureau's not gonna banish them."

Sil looked like she was about to yell something else so Riley continued. "And anyway, what I'm trying to say is that they told me they can tell if someone's made a deal."

There was another silence.

"Nope, no way."

"Mike—"

"What if they're the one killing people, did you even consider that!"

"Mike," Riley pleaded again. "You said it yourself. These are envy killings, not avarice."

"We need to talk with Director Coleman about this. In person."

"For once I agree with Sil. Maybe the director can knock some sense into you."

"What, and give Bell time to skip town?" Anger bolstered Riley's confidence. "No. You guys can leave if you want but I'm calling Avi now."

"What could possibly motivate you to be this stupid? Seriously, Riley, this isn't like you," Mike said. And he was right. Riley was never this confrontational.

Why were they acting like this? After a moment the answer came to them.

"Lives are on the line. We have to take what help we can get. You can leave if you want."

It looked like Mike was considering it, then he sighed. "No. No way am I leaving you alone with them."

"Agreed. If we're doing this, we're doing it as a team."

"Thank you, really. That means a lot."

"Yeah, well, we're still telling Coleman everything when we get back to base," Mike said. "Now call the demon and get them here. I can't believe I just said that."

Riley got out their phone, pulled up Avi's name in their contacts and took a deep breath. Then they hit the call button.

It rang once. Twice.

"Hello? Riley?"

"Um, hi, Avi. You're on speaker with Mike and Sil."

"Oh! Hello Riley's team!" Avi sounded cheerful, as if they didn't have a care in the world. Mike and Sil remained silent.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?" Avi said, ignoring the awkward pause.

"We, uh, we found a suspect but can't find any solid proof that he's tied to the occult. Do you think you could help?"

"I'll be right there. What's the address?"

It was the most awkward ten minutes of Riley's life waiting for Avi to get there. No one said a word, just stared at them disappointedly and shuffled their feet. Why was it taking so long? Demons could teleport!

Then the door leading outside swung open and Avi sauntered inside the building carrying three styrofoam cups.

"I brought everyone coffee!" They handed out the warm cups. Everyone accepted them but when Riley went to take a drink of theirs Sil looked them in the eyes and shook her head.

Avi was dressed professionally, in a light teal button-up and black slacks. Aside from the color they fit right in with the team's "We're definitely in the FBI" suits. Their cheerfulness seemed genuine, but their smile wavered for a second when no one drank their coffee. Relief flooded Riley when they realized that Avi hadn't brought a drink for themself. Riley didn't think their team knew enough about demons to realize what Avi being able to taste meant, but just in case, anything that made the demon seem more powerful was likely to get Riley in even more trouble.

"So." Avi clapped their hands together. "Where is our suspect?"

"Follow me," Sil said with professional seriousness as she led the way back to the man's apartment.

Once they got there Avi knocked politely but forcefully. Bell opened the door a crack.

"Didn't I tell you people to leave me alone?"

Avi pushed the door open wider and looked Bell over. When they spoke they did so casually. "Yep. This man sold his soul."

A look of panic flashed across Bell's face and he slammed the door shut.

"Get out of the way," Sil said as she took Avi's place and kicked the door in.

Avi grinned. "Oh, that was very cool."

Sil ignored them and walked into Bell's apartment, pointing her gun at him. The others followed, Riley a bit reluctantly. They hadn't exactly planned to be involved in the more action-packed parts of a case again so soon. Although, they should have expected as much after involving Avi.

"It's over, Mr. Bell. Surrender and come with us."

"I don't think so." Then he raised his voice until he was shouting. "I invoke our contract!"

"Shit. He must have some sort of protection clause." Avi rushed to get in between Bell and the others. Sil made a noise of protest.

Then the room went cold and a bright light flashed. When it faded a figure stood next to Bell. They were silver, reflective like a mirror, and crystalline. Just a basic humanoid shape with no features except for two eyes, which shone a poisonous green.

"This human is under my protection." The figure didn't have a mouth, but their voice was clear enough.

"Yeah," Avi said. "We'd like it if we could get you to renegotiate the terms of that contract."

The new demon looked at Avi with narrowed eyes. Then they took a step back. "How the hell did you get what every demon dreams of?"

Riley couldn't even take the time to process those words and wonder what they meant. There were two demons in the room with them. That might be about to start fighting. They were all going to die.

"Listen, that's not important right now. I'm Avi, they/them. You are?"

"Maximilian, he/him."

"Maximillian. Of course that's what a demon of envy calls himself."

"What?"

"Nothing. So, Maximilian, these people behind me would very much like for your client to stop killing people. Can you tell us the exact terms of your contract?"

"In exchange for this man Andrew Bell's soul upon his death happening without my involvement I am to deliver him to the homes of his five most hated enemies. I am then to make sure he has the means and opportunity to kill them, then transport him back to his home before law enforcement arrives on the scene. Until the last of the five are dead I am to protect him from those who wish to harm or imprison him. All aspects of my half of the contract cease when the last of the five dies."

Riley was a bit thrown off by the sudden lawyer-like tone.

"Damn. If not for the 'or imprison him' this negotiation might have been easy," Avi remarked.

"Yes, Mr. Bell was very thorough in his demands."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!"

"Apologies," Maximilian said without a hint of remorse.

"So that leaves two victims left alive."

"One," Riley interjected with no small amount of nerves. "Another died last night."

"One victim left alive. Thank you, Riley. Mr. Bell, what can we do to make you reconsider your stance on murdering this person?"

"Nothing!" The word was practically a hiss. "She doesn't deserve what she has! She has never in her life worked as hard as I have worked and—"

"Yes, yes, big villainous speech, you're very intimidating or justified or whatever it is you were going for. Now, can you tell me the name of this person?"

"Uh, Clara Bolton."

"And her address?"

Bell told them. He seemed too caught off guard to think not to.

"Excellent, and can you," Avi turned around and addressed the agents behind them. "Refrain from attempting to harm or imprison Mr. Bell until I get back?"

"What? Where are you going?" Riley asked.

"I've figured out a way for this to all work out, but I need to go somewhere first. Do you trust me?"

"I don't," Mike muttered from the back of the group.

"I give you three my word that what I'm going to do will help with this problem, and that I will be back as soon as I can."

"Why should that make us trust you?" Sil asked.

"All a demon has is their word. To break a promise would go against every fiber of my being."

"It's true." Riley turned to look at their companions. "A demon's promise is sacred." Riley hadn't read this in any book in the Bureau's library. This knowledge had come directly from their grandmother and they were willing to entrust their life to it.

Sil looked at Riley for a moment, then she turned to Avi. "Okay. We'll stand down for now." She put her gun away.

"Excellent! Now, Maximilian, can I get your word that while I'm gone you won't act against these three in any way unless they try to harm or imprison Mr. Bell?"

"Sure, seems easy enough. You have my word."

"Thank you. Now, I'll be back in just a moment."

Then Avi vanished. Even knowing he had promised to leave them alone, Maximilian's presence was somehow more threatening without a benign demon as a buffer.

When had Riley started thinking of Avi as benign?

Bell made a dash for the front door, Mike stepped in front of it and activated his shield ring.

"Sorry, nope."

"You can't imprison me!"

"It's not imprisonment, You could leave through the window before Avi gets back. If you're fast enough."

Bell looked to the window. He didn't seem very eager to navigate the fire escape. Then he looked at Maximilian imploringly.

"He's right."

"Damn!"

There was a long, silent, deeply awkward moment where no one did or said anything. Riley fought to keep their jaw unclenched and resisted the urge to hold onto their protection amulet. Sil kept unconsciously moving her hand towards her gun then stopping herself. Mike stood in front of the door as still and solid as a brick wall.

Then, Avi returned. And they weren't alone.

"Are you alright, Ms. Bolton?" Avi asked as she stumbled and nearly fell. Her face looked anything other than alright but she nodded anyway. Avi turned to Bell.

"Is this the correct Clara Bolton?"

"Yes."

"So your contract ends when she dies?"

"Yes."

Riley got an awful premonition of what Avi was about to do. But before they could say anything Avi had already covered their hand in the shining substance Riley knew to be their true form and ripped out her soul. Bolton's body fell lifeless to the floor.

"Well then. There's that settled."

Everyone in the room was the very picture of shock except for Avi and Maximilian. Maximilian looked down at Bolton's body.

"It is indeed settled. Have a nice life, Mr. Bell. I'll see you when you die." Then the demon of envy disappeared.

Riley was just about to start screaming in fear or shock or something when Avi did the last thing Riley was expecting them to do. They shoved Bolton's soul back into her body.

She took a gasping breath and started picking herself up off the floor. "What?"

"There you are, safe from Mr. Bell. I've fulfilled my end of the bargain," Avi said with a cocky smile.

Bell's face turned bright red. "That's not fair! My deal isn't done! Maximilian! Get back here!"

"Actually, Mr. Bell, you didn't specify that your enemies had to stay dead. Just that they die. Don't feel too bad though, almost anyone would have made that mistake."

A wordless scream tore free from Bell's throat and he ran at Bolton. Avi stepped in front of her and grabbed Bell by the shoulder. He struggled but Avi's grip never faltered.

"Riley? I believe it's time you and your friends apprehended your murderer."

Sil shook herself out of her visible shock.

"Right." She grabbed the handcuffs from her belt, secured them around Bell's wrists, and started listing off his rights.

Avi let go of Bell and turned to see Riley staring at them slack-jawed. The demon was still wearing a wide smile.

"What? You didn't think I thought you all would be okay with a plan involving permanent death, did you?"

"You... how..."

"By being very clever and very experienced with knowing all the possible loopholes in a contract."

Avi's earlier words rang in Riley's head, "I've fulfilled my end of the bargain."

"You made a deal with her didn't you?" Riley sounded disgusted. "You did this in exchange for her soul."

"The only way I could keep her soul on this plane of existence after killing her was if it had been promised to me. It was the only way to save her."

"She's safe now! Call off the deal!"

"No." Suddenly Avi's face and tone dropped to something serious.

"Why not?!"

"Because I held up my end, so one day she'll have to hold up hers."

Tears formed in the corners of Riley's eyes.

Avi's face softened. "I'm going to take her back home, you should help deal with Mr. Bell."

Riley turned back towards their companions as Avi grabbed Bolton and vanished.

"Riley," Mike said. "I've never heard you yell at anyone and you just yelled at a demon. I don't know whether to call you a badass or an idiot."

"I say idiot. Definitely. You can be the one to explain all of this to Coleman." Sil said as she led Bell towards the door.

Riley should've felt retroactively scared of the potential consequences of yelling at a demon. Or relieved that in this case there were no consequences. Or worried about how Coleman would react to this. Instead they were just sad.

"Come on guys, let's..." Riley sighed and wiped their eyes. "Let's just go back to base."

[chirpsythismorning]

Y’all will be your own undoing the fact none of you have not even the slightest bit of doubt is rather worrying. what happens if neither is endgame and let’s say Mike is killed off? You can’t say that won’t happen either because you don’t know the same way you can’t say byler is endgame because you don’t know hell even milevens can’t say they’re ship is endgame because they don’t know. Ego is ruining both sides and neither side is correct and shouldn’t proclaim to be.

I'm sorry anon, but I'm not all bylers. While there are a great deal of bylers like myself who have less doubts these days, there are plenty that have mostly doubts. PLENTY. Arguably the vast majority. And for good reason, ie. history.

To be completely honest anon, I don't think you're worried about bylers and their lack of doubts. I think their lack of doubt scares you bc it's caused you to go from confident to having doubts yourself. Why else would you be here on anon all condescending otherwise?

Personally, I'm not even here bc I want to believe byler's endgame. And no offense to those that have went through it, because the whole point of queer-baiting is to basically mock queer fans and lead them on with no intention of following through, but I have never been queer-baited before.

I did however, like many milkvans, go into Stranger Things loving Mike and El under the assumption they were peak romance. I literally skipped all of s2 during my first rewatch to get to their reunion! But genuinely, do we think the show is supposed to be watched that way?? Hell no.

If you're having to skip all of s2, most of s3, most of s4 in rewatches, bc Mike and El are separated, fighting, or broken up, what does that tell you?

If you're having resentments for characters like Max and Lucas and Will and Hopper bc the story has made points to have those characters interfere with your confidence in Mike and El romantically, I'm sorry, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you're probably watching the show wrong. To be clear, if you have resentment for ANY of the main characters, you are missing something!!!

And that was my problem back then when I subscribed to these assumptions, because I WANTED to believe Mike and El were the pinnacle of romance, despite the signs incoming that went against it. And what that meant is I had to hold resentments for all the characters, including Mike and El themselves and even the Duffer Brothers for ruining what I WANTED to believe.

After s3, me, my friends, family and quite honestly anyone I spoke to about the show, said that it went downhill since the previous two seasons. And I do think a big part of the reason why, is because of the Mike and El conflict conflating everything. It felt regressive. And s4 repeating that exact storyline????

It took me a while to even consider byler as an idea. It's not like I latch onto every non-canon mlm ship and just ship for nothing (very few bylers do this, no matter how much anti's need to convince themselves this is the case as an excuse to be homophobic).

I am a hopeless romantic. Doesn't matter if it's queer or straight, I only ship stuff that I feel confident is endgame bc why would I put myself through scenes of something that doesn't feel right to me, merely bc I want to believe it and despite everything pointing against it??

Full serious, IF I was confident in milkvan endgame as a possibility, I would probably just convince myself to like them and provide evidence supporting it, bc I would honestly rather be right? Who tf wants to be wrong?

The problem was it didn't matter if I was initially convinced Mike and El were the pinnacle of romance (I was a child okay, give me a break...). Once I let go of that assumption because of all the doubts I had of them piling up, and took off my heteronormative goggles, I went woah... Holy shit. This show is actually fucking epic. Doubts gone. And the rest is history.

So, what happens if neither is endgame and Mike's killed off? I guess I would be confused, especially because the Duffer's specifically mentioned not being able to kill off Mike in a podcast last year. They gave their reasoning as to why, being that they take deaths on their show very seriously, needing 1+ seasons for them to show the characters mourning the loss. And so ending the show on that exact note, would be kind of a spoiler since they brought it up specifically? Therefore kind of redundant?

I guess, sue me for thinking the Duffers care about the show and put a lot of meaning into it. All of my analysis and theories are based on that assumption. No one's going to change how I think about that, so trust me, not worth getting worked up over it, anon.

If your evidence is all based on the assumption that the Duffers are not that good of writers, that almost everything on the show is coincidental and there's no deeper meaning beyond surface level, why are you even watching it in the first place? You do you I guess, but I just don't know why you wouldn't want to watch something that is more worth your time?

People being confident in their theories wont hurt you. If it bothers you so much, maybe find a way to be confident with your theories after looking at all the evidence from both sides. All sides. Any sides. If you still come up completely indifferent, then don't work yourself up by going on anon and making it other peoples' problem.

If it turns out everything meant nothing, and I was wrong about everything or most of what I interpreted, I will be okay! Because the show went from being about what I wanted to believe, to just what I genuinely believed.

Would I be disappointed? Sure. But lets hope I'm right bc in my scenario the show is epic and everything means something... not sure why anyone would root for the alt...

[grcetxt]

FNAF FILM SPOLIERS!!

So the fnaf film got released yesterday in the UK, and I was lucky enough to go to the first public screening!! I loved it sm, and I've got some theories, so buckle up.

First off, little details I loved. Balloon Boy was hilarious. MatPat's cameo was unexpected and amazing. I loved Foxy singing his little song (Which I and the people sat behind me sang along to) Mike's alarm clock and the pills on his bedside table being a throwback to game 4? Amazing. "I always come back!" Ok icon. And ofc, living tombstone at the end. Best feeling was when everyone in the cinema started scream-singing "FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDYSSSS"

Ok, Garett, who tf is this guy? I'm pretty sure he was Afton's first victim, so after a while of thinking, I thinkkk he might be the puppet? Ik it sounds far-fetched, hear me out. So every other ghost kid has been tied to an animatronic so far, that was expected, except for Garett. Now it could be that because Garett was kidnapped and killed and not lured away like the other kids, he just wasn't put into an animatronic, but I think that would be a missed opportunity. I think it would be perfect for Film 2, especially considering how Abby asked to see the animatronics again. Also, the fact that the puppet didnt feature AT ALL this film? A bit disappointing tbh. Ik they're in Game 2, not Game 1, but so's BB. I thought for a while about MatPats theory of Garett being Golden Freddy, and it being a dual soul situation like the Games, but idk. i talked to my dad, and as he put it "That wouldnt translate well from game to screen, no producer would sign on to that" and we all know how much of a film expert my dad is (/sarc) but i reckon he's right.

Okay, Baby. She's a Chekhov's gun that hasn't been shot yet. I think I speak for everyone when I say that I rate that babys screentime won't be limited to a little attempt on Abby's life and eating a broom. I've been trying to think about what she could do next film, and honestly? All roads lead back to Vanessa. This might just be my lore-hungry brain wanting Afton's daughter to possess Baby, but idk. It could be that Baby gets Abby next film? But I feel like she would know better after being almost killed by it. I think that Afton won't forgive his daughter so easily, I'm thinking he'll want to level the playing field, let her see how it feels.

I rate that film 2 will probably be a cross of being set in Game 3 and Game 5. I'm mostly convinced of Game 3, with the whole Afton being locked in the back room thing. But if they do decide to go the Baby route, then we could be seeing Sister Location

Idk! These are just my theories, I could be totally wrong, there could end up not being a film 2 at all! I just found it fun to word vomit. We'll have to wait a month or so for the film theory to see if I'm right at all. Anyways, let me know what you think! Give me your theories! Cuz afterall, thats just a tehory, a GAY theory (95% of this fandom is mentally ill and queer, including me) thanks for reading :DD

[faramirsonofgondor]

There is something so interesting about the Wheeler kids! Like they’re all super curious/ambitious children and it almost makes we worried for them, especially Holly. I also really like how their curiosity shows itself differently for each of them.

Nancy’s curiosity and ambition stemmed from wanting to find Barb in S1, then to seeking vengeance for Barb’s death in S2, then to prove herself in S3, and then to protect the group and seek answers for Fred’s death in S4.

Mike’s curiosity and ambition mostly stem from his desire to protect the party (mostly Will), in S1 his curiosity about Eleven and her background and what she knows is because he wants to get Will back, and in S2 his curiosity comes from trying to help Will figure out what’s going with him and the Mind Flayer. We get a few moments of curiosity from Mike in the later seasons as well but they’re not as obvious like the earlier seasons (for instance the little moments Mike checks on Will to make sure he’s okay, trying to understand Eleven’s point of view when shes upset with him in S4, etc.) I honestly think part of it is that he’s worried that if he keeps being curious and looking for danger then he’ll find it and someone will get hurt, so chooses to remain oblivious or not seek any deeper answers until he starts to realize that in doing so he’s hurting the people around him.

I think Hollys character is so interesting when it comes to her curiosity, mostly because it stems from her childhood innocence. Like her little moments of curiosity are really setting up something bigger for her character, she’s really one of the only character to get so close to and actually see the monsters from the Upside Down without knowing the whole truth. In S1, she’s the 1st person (other than Joyce, Will, and the people @ the lab) to see the demogorgon. In S3, she’s the one who first sees the Mind Flayer moving through the woods towards Hopper’s cabin. In S4 she notices the first few particles from the Upside Down. These are all things she just stumbles upon but it’s clear that she’s also very curious towards what’s going on.

However like I kinda said earlier with Mike, there is a lot of danger that comes with their curiosity. In S1, Nancy’s curiosity leads to her being trapped (briefly) in the Upside Down with Demogorgon,and Mike’s curiosity leads to him and the party being threatened multiple times because he’s harboring Eleven. In S2, while Nancy’s ambitions led to her exposing Hawkins Lab, it also means that the government is probably keeping a closer eye on her to make sure she doesn’t speak out. Mike’s curiosity in S2 leads to him emotional distress at many different points, considering he had to watch Will seize when the soldiers were burning the Upside Down, had to deal with the fear and realization that Will might forget who he is, had to watch a shit ton of people die in the lab and deal with the fact that he might not make it out of there, AND had to hear Joyce’s screams as Bob got ripped apart. He was honestly going through it that whole season. In S3, Nancy’s curiosity and ambition lead to her getting fired and then her having to Mrs Driscoll act all possessed and shit. Then in S4, Nancy’s curiosity indirectly leads to Fred’s death, as well as her own possession by Vecna.

All things considered I don’t really think that all of the Wheeler kids are gonna make it out of S5 unscathed.

[willel]

If I remember correctly you do not exactly ship Byler, right?

If you feel free to talk about this topic, I wanted to ask you something as a non-shipper; would you be okay with Will having a new boyfriend (even if we'll see Will and his boyfriend for a couple of episodes), or would you want him to just get over Mike but ultimately just be happy about himself and accepting himself?

I do not consider Byler possibly happening because i do not think it is going to. That's why I am just asking your opinion without including Byler as a possibility.

Ye, I don't ship any of the ships, though I make some exceptions for Jopper and a bit of Jancy. Now Lumax. Even with those, if they didn't end up together, I would not be bothered so you can see why I'm not sure if I can really call myself a shipper.

At the end of the day, I want these characters to be happy. I want them to feel personally fulfilled. I want them to feel accomplished and self assured. I don't want their happiness to depend on another person being with them romantically. I want them to have achieved SOME happiness, even if it's not ALL the happiness.

I, as a person, do not view having a romantic relationship as the end all be all of happiness. Even for characters whose entire story is about romance, I think there is more to be said about the other things they succeed in doing whether they "get the girl" (or boy) or not.

It doesn't matter to me if Will gets a boyfriend. It doesn't matter to me if El keeps a boyfriend. The "boyfriend" is just one possibility for their happiness, not the ultimate solution. In fact, it's such a tiny fraction that people decide to hone in on for some reason.

What I'm looking for is for Will to feel like he isn't a mistake. For him to feel safe telling his loved ones who he really is. (really hoping for Joyce in this case) For him to not be the third-wheel friend. For him to feel confident to speak his mind sooner before he explodes like he tends to do. I want him to feel like he's someone's first priority in a good way whether it's platonic or romantic. I want him to realize he can keep his old friends AND make new ones, he doesn't have to subject himself to this harsh loneliness.

As I stated in the past, I have no idea what the hell the writers are doing with the Byler/Mileven plot line and I think they already screwed it up beyond repair so I care about it even less now. To me, it looks nothing more than potential teenage drama Teen Wolf style or something. Or should I saw Twilight. Whichever is worse. Not necessarily because that's how it's written, but because of how it's been perceived by the fandom and how everyone has been behaving.

Will's story arc about his sexuality and slowly coming to terms with what he thinks is his place in the world is sad and so very interesting. Not to mention how this supernatural plot is wrapped up in his personal growth and trauma. The actual romantic part of it? Eh.... doesn't pull me. (and neither does El's lovelife)

Having read all that, I'm sure you and others can understand why a lot of people support something like Byler whether it happens or not, but also why there are plenty of other gateways that can lead to Will's happiness that can or won't include another guy. I don't know which is more likely.

I have no idea what the writers are doing with this dumb love triangle bonanza and I could've lived my life without it. I don't know what's going to happen. I'm not looking forward to the conclusion. I just know when season 5 hits, I will be blocking all the ship tags. My opinion doesn't matter at all. No ones does except the writing team and their whiteboard.

I'd like to leave off with this. Something I like to reiterate on all posts like this. CANON DOESN'T MATTER. If you ship a ship, then ship it. It's your business and no one else. No one can tell you what to like. There is no law on the books that you can only ship canon. I ship one of the biggest non-canon ships in history probably and we're chill and minding our own business even with canon people constantly spamming us or stealing our content for themselves.

So I'm just sayin', whatever side of this silly war you are on, you'll be way better off not bothering the other side and enjoying your own ship to the very end.

[amazildoessomethingstupid]

Chapter 81: Take Heart (The Rant Man Returns)

Hey... Hey guys, I know I've been neglecting ya since Tumblr restricted the amount of pics and we had to move to making Youtube videos. But I haven't forgotten you! Thankfully the next rant is going to be on The Paulo Show and it's going to go over EVERY CHAPTER IN VOLUME FIVE! That's right, we're closing the gap of chapters I've reviewed since Happy Hour, and since they all have to be sort-of-mini-rants for each one they should be perfect to share with you! So here, enjoy this little sneak peek at The Paulo Show Rant. Consider it an early Christmas present, and a sincere thanks for sticking with me, or at the very least... Checking in on this old man.

Chapter 82: Take Heart... A drama centered chapter that despite its multiple moving parts including Abbey and Daisy’s relationship being on the rocks, Paulo’s new relationship with Rachel solidifying and getting its first hurdle… somehow this chapter manages to keep it light, and entertaining with lackadaisical humor, thanks in large part to the supporting cast and new characters strutting their stuff and fleshing out this world including…

YA BOI THE BIG HOMO HIMSELF! MMMMMAAAAATTTTTTTT! Oh boy I love Matt, he was the best! Because out of everything, he was just a guy! He was just some friend of Rachel’s that made Paulo jealous, but he was also a person, a character, a nice guy, a likable character who just happened to be gay! And it wasn’t used to force some message onto Paulo about being gay, it wasn’t to shipbait, it wasn’t a key part of him, it was just all he needed to be… Matt! And he doesn’t steal the show, or is marketed to us as “the next best thing!” or “The gay one!”, honestly he plays second fiddle as the B-plot of this chapter which can just be summarized as Paulo going through the whole chapter crying

OH BABY YOUUUU YOU GOT WHAT I NEEEEEEED BUT YOU SAY HE JUST A FRIEND! BUT YOU SAY HE’S JUST A FRIEND, OH BABY- 

Except actually, SURPRISE! He really is just a friend, and in fact he’s gay! Ho ho, silly Paulo your relationship with Rachel is safe~

Abbey and Daisy on the other hand… Not so much. Daisy let slip her feelings about Mike in Happy Hour, and so Abbey decides to break up with Daisy.  Paulo hears about this and consoles Daisy by telling her that this whole thing is fucking stupid and they should just suck it up and be a man woman, but upon seeing how broken up Daisy is about it, he decides to help out, with Daisy offering to also help him by dealing with the B-Plot!

So Paulo decides to cook up a scheme involving…

JASMINE! Hey, Jasmine I hadn’t seen you since

Yeah… y’know I remember now why I hated your character so much and thought you were the worst character in the comic you ungrateful fuckin…

It’s okay. It’s okay. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. We’re being nice today. Positivity. Positivity. Positivity.  So Jasmine ends up relenting and helping Paulo out by using her political pull as school secretary to set up a fundraiser once he reveals that it’s actually for Daisy.   

Making this a sweet little adventure chapter as everyone gets to play a part and help solve a problem, with hijinks ensuing when Daisy’s nervousness to buy Abbey flowers leads to Paulo buying the flowers for her.  I’m skimming over a lot of course because we’ve got plenty to go over and I can’t stop to point every part that I liked, but just know that between all these points there are jokes happening that still make me laugh as I’m writing this out.

One joke that I WILL talk about is the great gag of the plan going awry because

Oh that Paulo~

But this is quickly resolved as Daisy explains that it was supposed to be from her, but Abbey is still dwelling on the past and talking about how he’s unsure about the relationship and that leads to THE SCENE. The Hook. The moment when I knew things were different.  The point where I started believe again! The scene that made me have faith that Paulo really was the guy and would lead us to the brighter future we were yearning for!

No joke, when I read this scene I actually clapped.  I gave a standing fucking ovation because HOLY SHIT YA BOI DID IT! HE CALLED OUT THE BULLSHIT DRAMA DEVELOPING IN FRONT OF HIM! HE’S ME! HE JUST LIKE ME FOR REAALLL! THIS TEEN DON’T GOTTA WORRY ABOUT NO ACNE, CAUSE THIS MOTHAFUCKA IS PROACTIVE! LET’S FUCKIN’ GOOOOOOOO! YEEEAAAAAAH THAT’S RIGHT YOU TELL HIM! And for those of you that don’t get it… let me reel it back for you, and tell you that this whole thing of Abbey breaking up with Daisy because Mike X Daisy was a thing is such bullshit.  First of all, as Paulo said that ship was NEVER going to be a thing.  The last time that Daisy’s crush over Mike was relevant was all the way back in Volume 1! Where it flamed out hard and Mike buried that shit like a dog turd on the lawn.  And abbey should’ve known that, since… well y’know. HE WAS THERE WHEN IT HAPPENED!

But thank FUCK! Paulo takes charge and quashes it right then and there! It’s over! Abbey and Daisy are together again! Paulo figures out Matt’s gay and has nothing to worry about! And everything is going to be okay! The one solid relationship of Abbey X Daisy is solid and we never have to worry about it ever again. [start crying]  And nothing bad will ever come out of this scene it is  ah huh hoo hoo p-positivity. POSITIVITY! POSITIVITY! POSITIVITY!

10/10

Welcome to the Show

[jvblood]

confessions

pairing: argyle x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k

summary: while in utah, argyle meets eden. something brews inside you as the two interact and you confide in jonathan about how you feel.

WARNINGS: none i think....

a/n: this is the longest shit i ever wrote and it took me like three days. holy shit

Ever since Jonathan arrived in California with him and his siblings, he’s been attached to you and Argyle. It started with Argyle and him having one or two classes with him and then suddenly he’s giving him and his siblings rides to and from school. Before it’s been just you and Argyle but it was nice to add a new face into the mix. You got to know a lot about Jonathan, especially about his whole girlfriend situation. He’d come to ask you for help about him and his girl, Nancy, considering you might be more helpful than Argyle. You would go to Jonathan to help you with your boy problems a.k.a. Argyle. He knew you had a crush on him. You told him, when you were high, on accident. 

It was an instance where you and Argyle were alone. Like the time you made a friendship bracelet with him. He made one for you and you made one for him. Ever since you two made them, you both haven’t taken it off since. Or the time that you stole Argyle’s hair tie back in sixth grade and ever since then his hair has been down but he always kept a bunch of hair ties for you. All these tiny moments made your heart swell at the thought of Argyle. You appreciate him and formed a crush on him over the years.

Ever since Jonathan found out that you liked Argyle, you’ve always gone to him for advice. You would vent to him about Argyle and he would vent about Nancy. It was nice to console each other. 

One thing you didn’t know about Jonathan is that he had a different life when he came from Indiana. Especially with his sister. The five of you are driving to Utah to meet up with a friend's girlfriend. You’d never thought that you’d be spending your spring break going on a search for Jonathan’s telepathic sister. Then again, you’d thought you’d never leave your own house unless it was for groceries or going to work. 

Speaking of work, that’s how you got here. You and Argyle were on your way to drop off a pizza at Jonathan’s. Next thing you know, you have a man bleeding out in the trunk and you somehow made it to Utah. Stretching your weary bones, exiting the van; the five of you walk towards the door. 

“I can’t feel my butt,” Argyle says as he hops out of the car, rubbing said butt “ can’t feel my butt. Can you guys feel your butts?” 

“I can feel my butt.” Will says, rubbing his back. You nod at that statement as you finally feel yourself touch solid ground and finally walk.

“Everyone needs to be on their best behavior, okay?” Jonathan says, indirectly saying it to Argyle. 

“Okay, why are you looking at me when you say that?” Argyle chuckles out.

“I didn’t.” Jonathan reassures.

“They’re just really religious.” Mike says looking back at Argyle.

“Yeah, and I’m super spiritual dude.” Argyle says defending himself. You cock your head to the side weighing on the fact that they are a different type of spiritual. 

“Yeah, I think they’re spiritual too. Just in a different way.” Mike says facing towards Argyle before knocking on the door. You nod and hum in agreement and Argyle pushes you a bit, in a teasing manner. 

Once Mike knocked on the door, a little boy covered in what you hope is face paint, answered the door. 

“Oh. Hey,” Mike says confused as to why this little kid looks as if he came out of a Rambo movie, “ is Suzie here?”

The little boy shrieks and draws his arm back to release the arrow with a suction cup tip and aims for Mike’s head. Mike yelps at the arrow hitting him in precise accuracy while the little boy just walks away. As the five of you entered the house, you could hear an array of kids screaming. As Mike takes the lead into the house, you see two kids fighting on top of a dinner table. Argyle watches one of them speak in Old-English and you shake your head. 

“This is my kind of party.” Argyle says with a smile. 

“Jesus.” You mutter out just trying to keep on walking.

Next thing you know a little girl falls to the floor, exclaiming in pain. She holds her neck, screaming for help all the while her brother films her ‘dying’.

“Uh, excuse me,” Jonathan says, trying to get the attention of the brother that’s filming “uh, hey, we’re looking for Suzie.” The little boy snaps his finger in anger and faces towards the group. 

“Can you not see that we are filming?” The little boy says emphatically. Jonathan backs away and the five of you make your way past the filmmaker and actress. Soon you walk into the kitchen to see two more kids cooking something. 

“Hi, we’re looking for Suzie.” Mike says to the chefs. 

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Says the one with the braid. She continues to go one to ‘Peter’ about ‘how that’s too much salt and exclaims about father’s kidney’s’. This house is getting a bit too overwhelming. Then, the kid from earlier shuts the power down in the whole house from the breaker. 

“Cornelius,” shouts a dark haired lady. “, how many times do i have to tell you? That is not a toy.” She takes said Cornelius by the shoulders and leads him past you and the group. Yet, her steps falter as she walks past Argyle, making eye contact with him while she walks. Argyle looks at her star struck and makes her way upstairs.

The five of you make it upstairs to see her putting Cornelius in ‘time out’. Argyle was the first to reach the top and when she finally turned around she asked:

“Who the hell are you?”

“Argyle,” he huffs out in awe, “uh, and you are?”

“Eden.” She says softly. She seemed pretty chill and honestly, if you weren’t in the situation that you are in right now, you’d probably be good friends with her. 

“Like the garden.” Argyle whispers.  You and Jonathan looked at eachother and he could sense that you were a bit upset. You could feel something in your chest make you sick.

“Wow, hey, we’re looking for Suzie.” Jonathan interrupts, sneaking glances at you and Argyle. 

“Do you know where she is?” Will asks as he’s behind Argyle.

“Third floor, second door on your left.” Eden responds quickly. It’s nice how efficient she is. Jonathan, Will and Mike take what they need and quickly make it to where Eden directed. You, on the other hand, waited for Argyle as he stood there watching Eden.

“You see her, you make sure to give that selfish four-eyed shit a nice little shove for me.” She says as she slowly makes her way back down the stairs.

“Absolutely,” Argyle stutters “Eden, I will shove her for you. I will do anything for you.” She descends watching Argyle and he stutters speaking softly to her. Something bubbles in your chest and you don’t really like how it feels. You shake it off, walking towards where the other three are headed and Argyle’s behind you. As Jonathan opens the door, the five of you pile in and the room is surprisingly empty.

“Well, great, she’s not here.” Jonathan says. Mike took notice of the open window and it clicked for him. 

“Give her a shove.” He says quoting Eden from earlier. The four boys peeked their heads out of the window while you leaned against the wall next to the window. 

“Suzie!” Mike yells out.

“Yeah,” she says, “ Who the heck are you and what are you doing in my room?” You could barely hear her from inside but you consider it a bit dangerous that this girl is on top of the roof right now.

“Sorry, that’s–that’s fair.” Mike stutters, finally realizing that they did just barge in.

“No listen,” Will says, “ We’re Dustin’s friends.” 

“Yeah, we really need your help.” Mike pleads, hoping she’ll say yes. Soon enough, she comes inside and the three boys who know what they’re talking about fill her in about the Nina Project. To keep her safe, they tried to play it off as some sort of video game console.

“Okay, that is a lot to process. I mean, that might be seriously the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.” She says sitting on her bed. The boys across from her and you leaning against the wall.

“I know, it’s hard to believe.” Mike agrees. 

“But it’s true, it’s all true.” Jonathan says as an attempt to reassure her.

You tuned out halfway through the conversation because you know the truth entirely. So listening to these bozo’s dig a grave for themselves is a bit tiring. Especially after what’s already been happening, this lie is just not worth your two cents. The boys seemed to lie their ass off as they said the Nina Projects location’s would be helpful for ‘Dustin’s’ birthday. 

Then Eden busts in, raising her tone at Suzie, complaining about how she isn’t going to spend her entire day babysitting. To be fair she had a point. Argyle’s attention was solely on Eden’s again and that nasty feeling came back. Suzie pushes her out of her room and closes the door behind her. 

“Okay, so can you help?” Will asks.

“I would do anything for Dustybun,” you cringe at the nickname as she confesses, “ but I’m afraid there’s been an unfortunate development.” 

She continues on about how she changed Dustin’s grade and felt terrible with guilt ridden inside of her. She explains how her father saw that she was guilty and got her to confess that she did in fact ‘do something wrong’. Honestly, props to her for being internet savvy, way to go. She finally reached her conclusion about how her father took away her computer after hearing the truth. 

“Where is it?” Jonathan asks.

“His study. He uses it for work now and Father’s always working, and his door is, like, permanently locked.” She says shoulder slumping. The others huff out in disappointment.

“I’m really sorry. Truly. But it looks like you came all the way here for nothing.” She says.

Suddenly the power shuts down again and you could hear Eden yell all the way up from Suzie’s room. You could hear Cornelius shout as well and then in a split second the power comes back on again. Suzie suddenly has a realization that could help her access the computer.  Not really wanting to be in the way, you head to the nearest bathroom, trying to clear your head from everything that’s happened so far. 

Meanwhile you were in the bathroom and the others conducted a plan to get onto the computer. Argyle noticed that you slipped away and tried looking for you. He runs into Eden as he was looking for you.

“Oh sorry, dude.” He apologizes for running into her. 

“It’s–” She says patting herself “it’s fine.” She stutters. 

“Uhm– have you seen my friend? She’s about yay-tall and like super quiet.” He says trying to describe you as best as possible.

“Sorry but I don’t know where they went.” Eden says, shrugging her shoulders. Argyle nods as she admits to not knowing where your whereabouts are. Eden begins walking down the stairs and Argyle follows her. “Hey, you ever heard of the palm tree delight?” Argyle speaks up. She tilts her head to the side and squints, trying to understand what he meant. Argyle smiles down at her and told her to follow him.

The two of them headed inside the van and Argyle pulled out his bong and soon enough the two of them got high. As the two of them begin to settle down as they get high, Argyle lays in the back of the van, draping himself over Eden while she sits up. The music drowned in the mix of the two of them. Argyle watches Eden’s eyes as they look lower and lower at his lips. It was his turn to watch her lick his lips and soon enough she began to lean in.

Meanwhile, you step over a bunch of toys, making sure you didn’t break any of them. You turn the faucet on and splash your face with the cold water. You don’t know if you should use the towels but they were mostly decorative. You just wipe your face with your hands and shake the water off of your hands. As you're in the bathroom, the lights shut off. You hear someone scream for Cornelius and stomping down stairs. As you leave the bathroom door, you notice that the others left the room. 

With that, you go downstairs and wait for the others. Suzie’s dad is racing left and right to check on his kids and walks past you, looking confused. All you could do was a tightlipped smile and a nod. He couldn’t care about you considering you weren’t causing any harm or trouble. Soon enough, he finally goes up stairs and Suzie and the others are going down. 

Jonathan gestures for you to come along and the five of you head outside. As you walk out the door, you could already smell pot through the air and you turn your head towards the van. Pass the Dutchie plays through chaos and the five of you walk towards the van. Smoke fills up the van and you and Jonathan look at eachother. 

Jonathan opens the van’s back door and the smoke finally clears up. You see Argyle lying in the lap of Eden, out of his mind. The ugly feeling comes back and you instantly want to throw up. You snap your head down to the bracelet that Argyle made for you and you think for a second to take it off. “It’s time to leave.” Jonathan says, wafting the air that surrounds them. Eden frowns and gets out of the van with the help of Suzie. As she walks past you, she gives a nod. You nod back and watch as she walks into the house.

Jonathan took the driver seat while you took the passenger seat. Will and Mike hop into the back seat while Argyle is in the trunk. Jonathan starts the van and pulls out of the driveway. You face towards the window and you stay silent.  

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ 

In the first hour of driving you believe that everyone in the van, except for you and Jonathan, were asleep. You couldn’t sleep with the way your mind has constantly been on Eden and how she looked at you. Was she taunting you? How were you supposed to know, you were never going to see her again. More or less, what was the feeling you had every single time you saw the way Argyle acted with Eden. 

“You okay?” Jonathan asks softly. 

“What do you mean?” You say, turning your focus to him. 

“You know what I mean.” He says. You furrow your eyebrows, gears turning in your head. 

“Of what happened with, you know, Eden.” He says, trying to encourage you to open up.

“No, yeah. I’m fine–totally fine.” You say trying to reassure yourself. 

“You sure?” He eggs on and suddenly you start feeling yourself tear up. 

“Ugh–god, I didn’t want to talk about it but I guess I should before I go crazy.” You say fiddling with your bracelet. “I don’t like this feeling. It’s so stupid, it’s like my chest feels heavy and I get a headache. I feel so childish for this. When I saw the way he acted towards her, I never saw that before. It makes me feel shitty that I wish I was the one that made him feel that way.” You confess, eyes pooling with tears. 

“It’s not stupid to feel that way. It’s valid,” Jonathan reassures, “ it’s just jealousy.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. 

“God, that’s exactly what I didn't want to hear. I shouldn’t feel that way, it’s stupid.” “And that’s okay! It wouldn’t be okay if you tried to do some sabotage or something like that, you know.” He tries to joke, smiling and nudging you. You say smiling and face towards the window again. Unbeknownst to you, Argyle finally woke up. He heard you confess about how you felt when ‘he looked at her’. His mind was racing trying to think about what you meant and how you were feeling about someone else. He huffs out in acceptance, now it was his turn to feel that nasty feeling in his chest. 

It’s been about two hours now that Jonathan’s been driving and finally everyone’s awake. Mike mentions how he needed to use the bathroom so Jonathan finds the nearest gas station where you guys could refresh yourselves before finding their sister.

You all hopped out of the van to walk towards the gas station. Jonathan stayed behind to fill up the gas for the van while you four headed inside. You walk through the aisle, looking for something to snack on. You contemplate on what bag of chips to choose when suddenly you feel someone standing next to you. “Which–uh– chips you getting?” Argyle stutters. 

“Oh, probably gonna get these.” You say grabbing a random bag. Not really thinking about what it was and not really caring about what it is, you keep it with you. You make your way to the drinks and grab whatever you fancy at the moment. You see Jonathan finally came inside after he finished filling up the van and he made his way straight to you. 

“How you holding up?” He asks.

“I don’t know–I mean, I feel like it’s super awkward between us but I don’t know if it’s just me that thinks that or if he feels the same way.” You say sneaking glances towards him. Jonathan nods, understanding what you mean. 

Meanwhile, Argyle watches you two converse. He feels left out and a bit green watching you too. The way you smile at Jonathan makes him sick, ever since you guys arrived, it’s like you’ve been avoiding him. He could feel that you were ignoring him and he didn't really understand. 

You tell Jonathan that you’re going to go pay for your items so you head to the cashier. You place them down in front of the cashier and Argyle places his items down as well. He pulls out his wallet before you can bring yours out when the cashier rang up your total and paid for your snacks. 

You thank him, quite confused as to why he bought it for you. He has the bag of snacks with him and hands you your snacks. As the two of you walk towards the exit, you hold it open for him. You follow right after him and see that you two are the only ones waiting in the van..

Argyle wants to say something but he’s holding back. Jonathan soon comes out of the store and you smile at him. Argyle watches you as you smile at him and the feeling you described earlier was hitting him. Jonathan takes notice of how Argyle watches you. 

Will calls for Jonathan to ask him to pay for his and Mike’s snacks and he leaves you two alone. Now you and Argyle are back in silence.

“So, how’ve you been?” Argyle asks, trying to break the tension between the two of you.

“As good as someone who’s running from the government can be.” You say, opening your drink and taking a sip.

“Yeah, of course.” Argyle huffs out. 

“How about you?” You ask. 

“I’ve seen better days, you know.” He says and you hum in agreement. Then it went silent again. It was never this awkward between the two of you. By now, you guys would always talk about something random but nothing could be said between the two of you. Argyle sighs out feeling some sort of courage. 

“So.” He starts. 

“So?” 

“Did I do, like, something?” He asks. “What, what’re you talking about?” You say shaking your head, confused as to where this is coming from.

“Well I mean, ever since we got here, it’s been like a you and Byers show. Like, what about me?” 

“What about you?” You say not realizing how harsh it came out. 

“What about us?” He asks, shaking his head, facing towards you. 

“What about us?” You say, emphasizing on the us. 

“It’s always been us then suddenly Byers gets in the mix and it’s you two? I mean, it’s just crazy that the second he’s even near you, I become invisible.” He huffs out, shaking his head “What are you talking about? You introduced me to him and, trust me, you are not invisible.” You say, raising your voice a bit. 

“Well, it feels like it. Every single time Jonathan is even near us, it’s like you forget that I even exist!.” He says, raising his tone as well, tossing his arms in the air. 

“Jonathan and I just talk a lot.” You say, not trying to confess with the tension between you two. 

“We talk a lot as well, so why is Jonathan different?” He says, crossing his arms. 

“He just is, Argyle.” You say, shoulders slumping. He shakes his head again, not understanding. Of course he couldn’t, you thought to yourself. Argyle huffs out and feels his blood begin to boil a bit. 

“I’m just confused.” He says playing with his bracelet.

“I’m just as confused as you are.” 

“Do you like him?” Argyle says quickly. You snap your head towards him in confusion and yelp ‘what’. 

“I mean, the two of you always hang out, even without me sometimes–and don’t say you don’t hang out without me because I know you do. I mean I’m just confused as to what happened to us.” He huffs out. 

“Nothing is happening to us. What do you mean?”  You say, looking at him, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Maybe that’s the problem.” He said, slumping his shoulders. You start getting pissed off at all of this uncertainty. 

“God, what are you going on about?” You begin. Argyle watches you in confusion. “I don’t understand you, Argyle. I genuinely don’t understand what you are talking about. Jonathan and I are friends. I can have friends, you can have friends. You’re confusing me. What do you want from me?” You exclaim, talking with your hands, flailing them around.

“I want to know if you like Jonathan.” 

“Oh my god, I do not like Jonathan. He’s got a girl! Jesus, man!”  

“So then, who do you like?” 

“Why does it matter?” 

“Because.” He stutters. In the back of his mind, the interaction of him and Eden replays. As she began to lean in, Argyle sat up quickly. Regret fills his veins as he missed this opportunity but it was like his flight response kicked in. When he saw her lean in to kiss, all he thought of was you and what you thought of him. He fills a terrible guilt in his chest as he looks at Eden with wide eyes, trying to pat down on his jeans to get rid of his sweaty palms. He grabs the bong and hits it again before the van door opens, the two of them see the other five looking back at them. He was watching you and you had your eyes fixated on your bracelet, playing with it, trying to distract yourself. Eden watches Argyle’s line of sight and she sighs out. 

“I think I like you.” Argyle says. Your mind finally stopped racing. It felt like tv static in there. The silence surrounded you two again as he confessed. You furrow your eyebrows, looking at the accessory that he made with you. In time where you thought deeply, this bracelet was the most comfort you got. It reminded you of the person that you knew cared deeply for you. That’s why you never took it off. Argyle thought the same with his. He knew that if he did, he wouldn’t have anything near him that reminded him deeply of his favorite girl. 

You look at him, eyes meeting and the two of you lock eyes. Your eyes scan all over his face, trying to see if he was lying. There was only one thing that was racing in your mind. 

“Why?” 

In Argyle’s head, he was thinking of all the times when you were together. How when the two of you were in sixth grade and borrowed his hair tie and noticed how pretty you were with your hair out of your face. Or the time that the two of you got high for the first time in ninth grade and how you were coughing so much that you nearly threw up. He was laughing his ass off but made sure to take care of you. Or maybe it was the time you had a camera and took pictures of him, and how the next time he entered your room, he saw the pictures hanging on your vanity.

Argyle had so many reasons to like you, he was just stupid enough to realize to super late. Or so he thought. Argyle wasn’t the best with his words and expressing himself to others, so he tried his best to express how he felt towards you.

“Do I need a reason why?” He says, shaking his head.

“What about Eden?” You ask.

“She’s not you.” He says, now avoiding your eye contact. “Do you like me?” 

“I do.” You say rather quickly. 

“Nice.” He says, awkwardly looking down. 

“God, we are not good at this are we?” You say as you chuckle. 

“Yeah, we suck.” Argyle says, slumping in the seat. You finally smile at Argyle and he wishes he could brag to Jonathan at how he made you smile. Like he was secretly winning for your affection, even though he already won it a long time ago. 

“Does this mean we’re like, you know, a couple now?” You whisper.

“Do you want to be a couple?” Argyle asks.

“Yes.” You quickly answer.

“Then, yeah.” Argyle says. You lay your head on Argyle’s shoulder and sigh out. He rests his head on top of yours and the two of you finally sit in comfortable silence. A smile etched on both of your faces, your snacks long forgotten because your stomach is now filled with butterflies. 

In the meantime, Jonathan, Will and Mike are all in the gas station watching you two. Looking through the glass windows and saw everything that happened. From the argument to the climax and finally the ending. 

“Are they done?” Will asks. 

“Let’s get into the van before they start eating each other's tongues.” Mike says as he exits the store. Will and Jonathan cringe at the thought and finally make their way back to the van.

[ideasbaker]

—even knowing these two scenes are not the same, i really think it makes such a good work explaining why mileven and stancy should not be endgame, and most importantly, shows us how the wheeler siblings deal with emotions as strong as love.

“I- I care for you, so much.”

“care... but you- you don’t love me anymore?”

“who- who said that I didn’t?”

“you never say it!”

“I say it.”

“you can’t even write it mike. from, mike; from, mike; from, mike; from, mike; from, from, from!”

“okay! okay you’re being ridiculous! why? like- what is this? you- you know what I think of you! you’re the most incredible person in the world! and- you can’t let this mouth-breathers ruin you! ruin us! I mean- they’re nobody’s! they’re nobody’s! and you’re a superhero.”

“apparently uh- we killed barb, and I don’t care, because I’m bullshit. and our whole... our whole relationship is bullshit... I mean, pretty much everything is just bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. oh yeah, also: you don’t love me.”

“I was drunk steve. I don’t remember any of that.”

“so that makes everything you said... it’s what? just bullshit, too?”

“yes.”

“well, then tell me.”

“tell you what?”

“you love me.”

“really?”

—in both of these situations we see nancy and mike being confronted by their significant others on the fact that they can’t say they love them (in nancy’s case, being blamed for throwing to the trash all of their relationship after she gets drunk, which triggers a breakdown that she pushes onto steve). we need to have in mind that ted and kate wheeler don’t have the perfect relationship, in fact, in season 1 nancy tells jonathan how she thinks they never loved each other, and that their marriage had more to do with money than with love. this means that mike and nancy have grown up seeing their parents relationship and being told that that’s love, because when you’re a kid you assume what your parents do it’s the right thing, the good thing. once they were older they realized it wasn’t, and probably shielded themselves from emotions so they wouldn’t end up in a sad and tiring relationship like their parents. we see this in nancy mostly portrayed in season 1, seeing how she cares deeply for studies and how she knows what she wants in life is not a relationship but a good career (even when she starts dating steve, it never is her first priority). in nancy’s mind, keeping herself from strong feelings can protect her from heartbreak and all the shitty things her mom goes through just because she married the wrong man. in mike we see it in the way of how protective he is over his friends, which can lead to him being selfish, just like he said in season 3. in mike’s mind, being the leader of the group and being able to decide all the decisions gives him the power to push away any situations that could hurt him and his friends, like heartbreak.

now, to give this a bit of context, we need to realize both eleven and steve are people who show abandonment issues. in eleven’s case, is just as simple as stating the fact that she was locked in a lab for most of her life, without any knowledge of who her parents are, and being brainwashed into thinking the evil man who’s making her life hell is her dad, and that after going through all this, it’s very difficult to not be afraid of the first person who treated her right (mike) leaving. in steve’s case, we know his parents aren’t usually home, and that that bought him to hang out with the only people who were willing to hang out with him, and when those assholes leave him it obviously leaves fears towards others doing it too. it’s true that he was the one to leave them first, but imagine how steve must’ve felt when the only people who could be considered his friends left him without a second thought.

in mileven’s scene we see how mike first tries to convince eleven that he does love her, because he doesn’t like seeing his friends hurt, and when that doesn’t work, he tries and distract her with praise, because he can’t deal with explaining his emotions to her yet, but he also doesn’t want her to be hurt. in stancy’s scene steve is angry and sad and needs reassurance because his girlfriend and only friend told him he’s bullshit and everything that surrounds their relationship is too. nancy can’t reassurance him the way he wants, but still tries other way, which is by affirming that she doesn’t remember anything and that everything she said was in fact not true, and that he shouldn’t worry about it.

what i want to say with this is that steve and eleven have several self esteem problems and that need to be reminded they are loved, and that is not a bad thing, everyone needs to be remind it of it, but for that to be done by nancy and mike, they would need to work really hard on their commitment issues. in the other hand, will and jonathan have too, self esteem issues, but they repress it, and don’t need as much verbal reassurance but instead, actions that show how much they are loved. i say this because as i see it, joyce and lonnie’s relationship didn’t lack words of fake love declarations but lacked true love actions, this without mentioning that lonnie has been shown to be an aggressive man who made fun of his own kids just for fun. nancy and mike’s whole thing is showing their love by actions, such as how when mike went behind the cops and his parents just to find will, his best friend since childhood, and how nancy exposed herself to her flayed boss just to keep jonathan, the person who understands her best, safe. of course, when you enter a relationship you need to work on your own problems and sacrifice yourself a little for your partner’s happiness, but is that much sacrifice worth it? is it worth it for mike and nancy to end up hating their lives and also eleven and steve because they needed to change their whole personalities so they could be together? when jonathan and will, two people who understand them perfectly and don’t need to pressure them into stating verbally their love for them are right there?

sorry for it being so long i hope i made my point clear tho:)

[leslie057]

chop logic;

pairings: nancy/jonathan, nancy&steve, nancy&mike

word count: 7.3k

rating: teen (swearing + sexual references)

summary: at the height of an existential crisis, she sliced off eight inches of her hair…and now she’s asking jonathan byers if he, too, would like a trim.

read on ao3

A Friday Morning in Late September, 1984

*

“It’s still wild to me that you really did it, Nance—do you like it?”

“Yes, I like it.”

“You don’t think you’ll get bored of it?” 

She gently shakes her head side to side, looking at her reflection in the glazy car window. “No, it feels better,” she insists. “Lighter.”

He shuts his door and walks around the back of the luxury car to stand at her side. “You know, I guess it’s growing on me, too,” he brushes off her shoulder affectionately, “you’ve kinda got the whole Michelle Pfeiffer thing going on? Scarface? Just need the bangs and some bleach.”

She considers it. “Really?”

Steve’s laugh echoes around them, rich and resonant, which completely catches her off guard. “Yeah, sure? But you’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you get your mom’s Clorox anywhere near that pretty little head of yours.”

Earlier that morning (as in: before-sunrise early), eight inches of her hair got sliced off at the height of an existential crisis. She had been tossing and turning in bed for hours, long hours, that gave her too much room to be alone with her thoughts. The emotional breakdown she’d been repressing for ages couldn’t wait. She couldn’t repress anymore, so the dam burst, and she cried until sunup. After that, she needed a change, a chop, an event. Something had to happen or she’d have forgotten which dimension of the universe she was in—or, worse, analyzed the fact that there’s ones out there other than this one.  

And now her boyfriend’s looking at her funny. 

She follows his lead as they head toward the front of the school together. The fall breeze pecks at her skin and makes her shiver. In retrospect, she probably shouldn’t have worn such a short skirt today. 

“Oh. Well, i-it’s just hair. You don’t think blonde hair is pretty?” 

“I think I like brunettes a lot better,” he quips. Impressive timing. 

What she doesn’t understand, though, is why it has to be a laughing matter. Would she look that ridiculous as a blonde? Just because she’s bookish and straightforward and serious doesn’t mean she has to have a certain look, does it? That certain look is what she had when he decided he wanted her, wanted her over all the other fish in the sea. She was special, and she’d never been that to anyone before.

They come to the main entrance of the school and, casting aside her simmering annoyance, she crosses the threshold while he holds the door open for her. “Hmm, flirting with me when I haven’t even given your French paper back to you…”

“Shit! It’s due this morning—”

“And here it is,” her fingers find the edge of her folder and slip out his paper, “500 words in all their foreign glory, and I think I got your handwriting right this time. You’re welcome.”

His widened eyes relax, and he swoops down to kiss her, deeply. There’s a bit of a…contraction, in her chest. That’s only because he’s just cut off her oxygen supply. Only. Definitely. 

She pushes him lightly until he moves away. He begins spewing his palliations, rapid-fire style. “I love you you’re a princess I’m gonna buy you a milkshake today you’ll never have to do this for me again I promise I—”

“Will find the time for your next one? Yeah, you will.”

“Nancy, I’m seriously sorry. Coach has been strict with us all week, freakishly strict, I really didn’t have time to work on it.”

“I get it.”

“Okay.” Another kiss from him. “Good.” One more. “Just…be thinking about what you want me to get you for this because I’ll get you a whole damn castle, I will. Whole swimming pool full of bleach.”

She smiles. “Would you shut up about the bleach?” 

“Yes! Yeah, I’ll even do that! Hey, I’m serious about the milkshake, though. You and me? After school? What do you say?”

“Okay.”

Essay in hand, he starts out for his class, and she won’t see him again until the lunch bell. 

God, she’s gonna be rethinking her stupid haircut all morning, isn’t she? 

*

Her first couple of classes pass by slowly, slower than usual, and she spends them both entirely inside her head. Her thoughts spiral like crazy in the cold and colorless classrooms, leaving stress to settle as dead weight on her shoulders. It doesn’t feel good, it doesn’t even feel tolerable. No matter how many factors in her life she tries to change, whether it’s her hair or her clothes, everything seems intolerable. She realizes that she has no choice but to deal with it all for now, but she hates that she has to. Hates medicating her anxiety with schoolwork and milkshakes and dissociation. That shit is killing her.

When History ends (at long last), she rushes to leave and move on to the next claustrophobic stress-trap of a room. Stopping her in her tracks, the teacher calls her out: “Nancy, I need to see you for a minute.” 

Fantastic. 

She rolls her eyes and pauses, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“Skirt length,” he notes.

She raises her eyebrows.

“I need to check your skirt length.”

She’ll state the obvious for him. “I have to go to class.” 

“And it will just take a second, Miss Wheeler. Come here.”

She approaches his desk, and he takes the wooden ruler off the chalk ledge of his board. He holds the end of it against her kneecap, measuring the distance from knee to hem.

“You’re cutting it close…I suppose there’s no reason to make you change, though. Would you pull it down a little bit please, before you go into the hall? It’s hardly appropriate.”

She huffs. “Sure thing.” 

“Thank you,” he says as she exits, “that’s a nice haircut, Miss Wheeler.” 

Is there a way to just fucking...grow it all back? Every time she touched it, she got flashbacks to it being matted with tree portal sludge, but it turns out sludge is so much better than It’s growing on me and Nice haircut, Miss Wheeler.

*

She must be hallucinating. Jonathan Byers. Locker. Jonathan, at his locker. He is never at his locker. 

But the stars have aligned, and the few extra seconds she spent getting a skirt check have bought her a rare opportunity to catch him before their shared English class, not after. She doesn’t know what possesses her, but she practically sprints across the corridor to get to him. She taps him once on his left shoulder then quickly moves around him to stand on his right side. She leans sideways against the lockers, grinning as he glances back in the opposite direction, his brows pushed together and his lips stuck in a puzzled pout.

“Hey there.”

He glances her way this time, mumbling, “Oh, hey.”

Clearly, he didn’t really look at her. 

“Why are you at your locker? It’s quiz day, you don’t need any books.”

His body and eyes face forward. “Unless I finish early and wanna read?”

“Ooh, what are you reading?”

He closes his locker and finally angles his body toward hers. He does a double take then, making her fight a smile. Tough fight to win. 

“Uh, I…you—your hair? You got it cut?”

She looks off to the side. Runs her hand through it, especially casual. “Oh, kinda, yeah. I did it myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. This morning, I mean, I woke up, it looked so unhealthy. I didn’t like it, and the scissors were right there, so…I chopped it.”

“How did you do it so perfect?” 

“It’s pretty easy,” she answers. Waiting for him to actually say something about it. The anticipation is making her face so hot, she can’t believe it. A definitive opinion would be nice, really nice. 

“Looks cool,” he decides, with the faintest tremble in his voice. What is that about? Not satisfying, Jonathan. 

“Does it look…good? On me? I liked it at first, but I’m not sure anymore. I know it’s just hair…” She looks down, down at her skirt, in an attempt to pull his eyes to a point on her thigh. She’s fishing for a compliment and attention; what? Why does he make her get like this? Why does every interaction with him feel like such a fever dream? His presence is a shot of straight impulsivity to her. It’s like she can say anything or do anything around him—and yet nothing will change. No reactions, no consequences.

“No, yeah. Yeah, it looks good on you,” he confirms, “it looks good.” 

She loves when he takes her bait. Not that it matters if he likes her hair.

He does, though. That is beyond satiating because the haircut really did prevent (delay) a fit of insanity. 

“Thanks. The change feels good, you know? Sometimes I feel like I’m living…I don’t know, like…”

He leans his shoulder on the lockers, mirroring her body language as he softly thumbs the dust jacket of the book in his hands. The Two Towers? What is that? Oh, okay, it says Lord of the Rings; he’s reading it for Will. The boys have loved the series ever since they could read chapterbooks, but maybe Jonathan never tried them. She never did, either, for the sake of originality. She didn’t mind playing D&D with her little brother’s friends (actually, she enjoyed it a lot growing up), but she had too much pride to read all the same books as him. Jonathan never cared about making such a separation between himself and Will. It’s so cute that he—

“Like you’re living the same day over and over?” 

Yes.  

She nods. “I don’t know if this makes any logical sense, but I guess making myself look different is my way of tricking my brain into thinking life is…restarting? Like last year didn’t happen?”

He chews his lip, staring vacantly past her. 

“Paying for that by having Mr. Walker poke at my leg with his ruler,” she mutters. Her old Good Girl Skirts certainly didn’t raise any questions.

That confused pout settles again on his mouth. “What?” 

“Nevermind…there’s nothing wrong with change, though, right? Now that I cut my hair, I almost wanna do more. What do you think I would look like as a blonde?”

“Like your sister, probably,” he predicts. With a quickness that lets her know he’s teasing her.

She smiles at him, and he looks at the floor. His long bangs fall in his eyes. She’s noticed that they hit right at his eyelashes when his head’s straight, so he’s obviously been allowing his hair to grow out, like she was prior to today. He doesn’t brush it down anymore, possibly because he spends more time rubbing out the bags beneath his ever-cloudy eyes (she can relate), but she wonders what it would look like if pushed back some. If it was a little— lighter, for him.

“Hey, Jonathan?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna let me cut your hair?”

“Uhh…”

“Come on, we cut our hands together already,” she whispers. “This is the same thing, just without any pain.”

“I don’t know, Nancy…”

“It’s gonna look so good, though! And I have nothing fun to do tonight, I already finished all of Steve’s homework.” She says it like it’s a joke though not far off from the truth. “Please?” she begs sweetly, trying to convince him with her eyes.

“I…don’t know if I can…” 

Why does he sound so scared?

“Sure you can, just stay when you bring Will over for the boys’ movie night.”

“They’re going to the arcade tonight, I thought.”

Now he’s just lying to her. She loves Lying, she’s Lying’s biggest fan, she’s having an affair with Lying. But recieving his shameless fibs fucking sucks. 

“No, uh, no arcade. Dustin got his hands on The Slumber Party Massacre somehow, so…”

“Doesn’t sound like their kind of movie?”

“Maybe not your brother. My brother is very excited to see a bunch of teenage girls run around in their pajamas until they get murdered one by one.”

“Oh…”

She can see him thinking about it all. About how Mike and Will are thirteen now. Not babies anymore, not small. It is sad in a way. It’s gonna shatter Jonathan’s heart into a million pieces when Will eventually and inevitably starts caring more about the actresses in movies than the elements of fantasy or horror. She herself can’t imagine him feeling that way about girls, now or in the future.

The bell rings suddenly and brings them both back into the moment.

“It’s settled then.”

“Oh, it is?” he counters. 

“Yes. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

He smiles for a split second, not with his teeth (that’s for very special, specific occasions), then sticks his tongue in his cheek to reset his expression. “For me or for you?”

“For both of us,” she promises, “now come on, you’re making us late.”

*

The vanilla malt Steve orders for her after school is way, way, way too much milkshake to finish all by herself, so they share it. It’s like their first date—double date. Her and Steve, Tommy and Carol. Weirdly enough, the pair made things better between them at that time. Their relationship was so ostentatious, unstable, stupid; it made her feel like what she had with Steve was serious by comparison. Rare, truly. She was sure no one else in the world could possibly understand their love because: he wasn’t supposed to love a girl like her, yet, he saw past her plainness and chose her. Chose her over the dozens of other girls desperate to be his. 

She isn’t insecure like she was at fifteen. 

(Like, she’s not plain, right? Okay, sure, she didn’t get romantic attention before Steve asked her out and, yeah, was a late bloomer. She doesn’t have a super bubbly personality. She has been told she’s bossy her whole life. Boys tend to be scared of her competitiveness and, to her knowledge, it’s not a “that’s so hot” kind of thing, more of a “what is her deal?” thing. A lot of people believed it when Steve painted her as a cheating slut, but it’s fine. Who cares? She’s smart and pretty. A good person. Good, loyal. Not a slut.)

Anyway, she’s not insecure. 

So it’s a bit unpleasant to think about how lucky she felt to be noticed by him. There’s an imbalance there. Why should it have taken luck for her to be chosen and wanted by someone?

She’s deserving of attention, of love. She’s deserving of love. Probably. She’s deserving of love? Yes.

(No? She killed her best friend. She’s positive she did.)

Thankfully, despite the initial imbalance in their relationship, they really are in love with each other now. Would damn sure be awkward if they weren’t. But he’s so sweet, how could she not love him? He’s sweet and funny. The palpable desire in him to make her happy could…suffocate. Her. 

It could suffocate her. 

“Nancy?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Mhm, why?” 

“Cause,” he gestures to her hands, “you’re doing it again.”

She looks at her pale hands which rest next to their drink on the table, one scratching at the other. Trying to open her scar, disrupt its healing.

“I’m so sorry, that’s—really gross, I didn’t realize I was—”

“Hey, no, come here,” he soothes as he pulls her into a tight hug, “don’t worry about it.” 

He holds her for a while like that…in the middle of the Dairy Queen. It feels great, he’s a great hugger. She is grateful for it. He starts whispering to her about how everything is gonna be alright and how he’s here for her. Sweet, again, even if he jumped the gun; she really was messing with her scar out of habit and nothing more. But they had an argument recently over him being insensitive about Her Trauma (she refused to go in his backyard because it reminded her of Barb cutting herself on the beer can, which is what attracted the Demofucker, as she hypothesized), and now he’s making extra sure to be sensitive and comforting in any and every case where she might possibly be experiencing a bad memory. Wow, it’s annoying how—

“What do you say we get out of here?” he suggests when he pulls away. “All done with your milkshake?” 

She nods, her mouth tight. Please, I’m tired.  

She sits silently as he retrieves a few bills to leave as a tip. She reaches out and rubs his arm to make him feel cared for, too. To even things out. 

Once they’re back in his BMW, his hand is on her thigh. 

“Thanks for buying,” she says. “I probably don’t thank you enough for always paying for stuff.” 

“No need to thank me.”

“Yes, there is! You don’t have to, but you do, and it’s sweet.”

“Come on, you kidding me? You’re the prettiest thing anyone’s ever seen, Nance, of course I’m—”

“Oh, here we go,” she teases. 

“I said of course I’m gonna do that for you. I’d do anything for you. You’re amazing.”

She sighs. “Thank you.”

He looks pleased that she accepted his compliments. 

(She doesn’t want his compliments about how pretty she is. There are a million other insecurities eating her alive much faster than the am-I-pretty-parasite; it is quite literally the only thing he talks about. The affirmations, as smooth as they sound coming from such a charming guy—her boyfriend—just don’t go much deeper than her looks and feel inaccurate when they do. It bites.) 

“So, what do you wanna do tonight?”

Immediate confusion. She blinks at the vibrant stop sign that’s posted ahead of them. She couldn’t agree with it more. Stop, Steve! 

“We can go to my house,” he squeezes her thigh, “my parents aren’t home.”

Oh. That’s what he meant? That’s what “what do you say we get outta here” meant? She was kind of thinking yes, let’s get out of here as in I have a warm bed to crawl into and a power nap to take before I cut Jonathan’s hair. 

Well, she guesses it’s only fair to go to his place. They haven’t had sex in a long time. It’s bad of her to do that to him.

But she doesn’t want to go because she currently has no sex drive. 

(Needing to touch herself in private doesn’t count, does it? It’s just easier to get turned on when she’s by herself. Nestled in her own bed, safe with her own thoughts, her own fantasies. Of course her fingers feel better than Steve’s, why wouldn’t they? That doesn’t mean anything. And, okay, no, she doesn’t think about him when she’s getting herself off, but it’s fine. She comes faster if she clears her mind, there’s nothing wrong with that. Except she doesn’t really clear her mind, she often thinks of boys from movies or books and, it’s crazy, sometimes they look similar to…someone…she…knows? Look, she only uses that as a last resort, so it’s not that bad.)

“Um.”

“If you have to be home for dinner, it’s okay. Just give me an hour, let me…let me take your mind off all the shit that’s been stressing you out, yeah? You’ve been worrying yourself to death, you need to let yourself relax—”

“I’m on my period,” she spits out. And she was, a few days ago. Now she’s not. 

“Oh…kay. Okay. Jesus, you probably don’t feel so good right now?”

“No. It sucks. I’m sorry, I know it’s been forever since I’ve slept over.”

“No, don’t apologize. I mean, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Not totally true. Hypothetically they could…well, have sex. But she’s trying to get out of that. 

Shit, it sounds horrible even inside her head. No, not horrible. Incriminating.

(She’s not trying to be horrible. She has no choice. Life has gotten really awful, and she has to spare herself the emotional exhaustion wherever she can. Her panic attacks consist of full-blown hallucinations, her body goes into fight-or-flight at the drop of a hat, she’s drowning in her own anger every minute of the day, and she no longer remembers what it feels like to not be on the verge of crying. After all that, what strength is she left with to get her through a night of sex with someone who she isn’t…in love…with? Her feelings for him are deeper than casual friendship, yes, but she’s not in love with him at this point. She has grown to love him in a nonphysical, camraderie-rooted way that makes sex with him weird and exhausting when it doesn’t just make her numb. She doesn’t want to be his girlfriend, but if she tells him that, she won’t be anything to him. So she does want to be his girlfriend. See how tricky it is?)

“But I am sorry, can I sleep over next weekend? I wanna come over then.” 

Liar.

“Of course but, I mean, you should still come over today. We can just hang out.”

She sighs. 

“Or not,” he concedes. 

“I’m sorry. I just need to go home, okay? It’s been a long day.”

He pulls into the very next driveway, an auto shop parking lot, to turn the car around. To put them in the direction of her neighborhood rather than his. “Whatever you say, Nance.” 

Yeah, Steve. Whatever I say.

*

That power nap she was drooling over is, ultimately, too powerful; for three straight hours, she is a motionless little hill beneath her blankets, dead to the world, and unprepared for Jonathan’s arrival. Once she is awake, she is groggy and dedicates an additional ten minutes to laying in bed—until she checks the clock. 6:55pm. Slumber Party Massacre starts at seven sharp, so she has got to get up.  

The truth is she has no idea how to cut Boy Hair (or her own; she was literally just fucking around with the kitchen scissors this morning), and the only reason she begged him for permission to do so was because after she got the idea, it was way too tempting to let go of. 

It can’t be hard, right? In comparison to other ventures she’s taken on? He will look cute even if she messes it up—

In the bathroom, she spends a moment making some careful product selections. She definitely wants the detangling spray, it’ll keep his hair damp for cutting. And for styling? Maybe some leave-in conditioner. For good measure, she grabs a pair of metal shears that certainly appear to be meant for grooming, a couple of towels, and her own Conair Pistol dryer that she uses every day. 

When she catches herself in the mirror, she frowns. Her eye makeup is all smudgy, her powder has begun to separate from her skin. She washes it all away, cleans her hands, then hurries back to her room to change clothes. As she unzips and sheds her skirt, delighting in the elimination of constriction, the sound of the doorbell makes her jump. She slips into the first pair of pants she finds, puts on a comfortable shirt, and goes downstairs.

Looks like she’s not gonna beat Mike to the door. 

“Hey, I want to answer that!” she shouts while he runs in from the kitchen. 

He ignores her and flings open the door. A few seconds too late, she comes up beside him, wedging herself between him and the doorframe to make herself seen. Still he ignores her. 

“Will! Hey!”

“Hey!”

She barks out her brother’s name in a way that draws it out and shows her exasperation: Mike-cuh!  

“Leave us alone,” he snarls and subsequently directs his attention back to the smaller Byers boy, pulling him inside the house, toward the basement stairs. “Come on, we’re about to start the movie!”

The boys disappear down the stairs, leaving her alone with Jonathan who has since come out from where he’d tucked himself into the shadows, standing off to the side of the welcome mat.

With crossed arms, she keeps her head turned over her shoulder. “I said I wanted to answer it, asshole!”

Silence. 

“So fucking annoying,” she mutters to herself. Then she relaxes her body, easing the tension in her muscles or hoping to, anyway. She turns to look at Jonathan. He seems spooked, to say the least, if not entertained. 

“Uh, hi?” 

“Sorry, hey.”

“Should I…come in?”

“Yeah, duh.” She pulls the door open wider for him as she hops back from the sill.

“No, I mean, really—should I? You seem kind of mad, I don’t know if I should subject myself to you and your scissors right now.”

So she’s not allowed to call her own brother a mean name? Now who’s being annoying? 

“I’m not—”

Okay, she yelled that.

“I’m not mad…” That was better. That was calm.

Jonathan’s skeptical expression brightens up into something sly yet smiley and sympathetic that shuts her rage off fast. Though she should be used to all his complexities, used to the surprising combinations of hidden traits that make him Him, her joints begin to buzz. She could be wrong about this one, but she senses flirtatious energy all around him—regardless of his tight jaw and tense body. His sleeves might as well be sewn to his belt loops with the way he’s sinking into himself, trying to keep his anxiety from falling out of his pockets. He may be aiming to minimize himself visually, but it’s not exactly working. Sure, his waist is tiny, teeny tiny, but those shoulders are broader than anything. Especially under the light color of his Henley. Newsflash, we can see you. And we want to see you. 

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she sighs. “Just stop looking at me like that.”

Stop looking at me like you don’t know about your perfect shoulder-to-waist ratio.   

He follows her up to her bedroom, which doesn’t look too terribly untidy, though the bed is unmade. She has laid out some large bath towels around the legs of her desk chair and neatly lined up her supplies on the desk. She gestures for him to sit before correcting herself—“Wait, wait, wait”—and spins the chair around so it's facing away from her mirror. He crosses his arms. A flimsy display of protest, perhaps. She grins. “Okay, now, sit.”

She won’t be swayed. If he watches her, she won’t be focused. This has got to be a blind haircut. 

When she goes to close her door, he does sit down, as instructed. Such an obedient customer.

“Does that work?” he asks, arm extended out to a record player that sits on the floor beside her white drawer chest.

“Oh, yeah, what do you wanna listen to—”

“W-whatever you want, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Bad liar. Bad! He must think she can’t see the truth. Little does he know that his habit of hiding himself and preempting vulnerable situations is what pressures her to pursue his secrets. There is so much about him that is a secret to her. In fact, this is the first time they’ve hung out together, outside of school and alone, since last winter. 

But music taste isn’t that revealing. Not in the same way that your biggest phobia is revealing or your test scores are revealing or your miniskirt is too revealing for your History teacher. That being said, a chance to play whatever she wants is a chance to play whatever she wants; she grabs a Blondie record.

“Okay, you’ll love this,” she promises, putting on their debut album.  When she returns to her DIY salon setup, he’s nervously tapping his foot against her laundry basket. The sound is quiet but annoying. She doesn’t think he’s aware of what he’s doing. 

The nervousness is adorable, so she won’t tell him to quit it. 

Her hands fold the smallest bath towel in half and drape it around his neck, as if it were a scarf, to protect his shirt from the clippings. “How was your day?” she asks politely.

“Interesting, I guess,” he murmurs. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. How about you?”

“Pretty boring, up till now.” She rounds the chair to stand in back of him and picks up the bottle of detangler. “Wait, before I start…do you trust me?”

“You do realize my mom cuts my hair, right? And her hands are always shaking ‘cause of coffee and cigarettes? Trust me, I trust you. You’re much more capable.”

“Okay, good,” she giggles. She begins spritzing his head, but the nozzle doesn’t give her much control. It may get his hair too wet. Problem Solving Time. She sprays her hand and tries threading her fingers through his hair to add in the moisture. It’s impossibly soft, it practically feels like a little kid’s. The discovery is so fascinating that she opens her big mouth about it. “Woah, your hair is soft.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“No, sorry, it’s just—softer than I’ve ever felt. I guess I’m so used to my own and mine is thick plus I damage it with heat and hairspray.” She explains this quickly and leaves out the detail that her boyfriend’s hair is also completely dead from product. “I’m jealous, what shampoo do you use?”

“I don’t know? We go through a lot of it, so we get the cheapest.”

She leans down before she can stop herself. Brushes her nose against the part of his hair that’s still dry, breathing him in.

“Well, it smells good, whatever it is.” It's clean and lemony. 

Okay, now stop sniffing him. Jesus. 

But it is really nice hair. And such a pretty color, too. Looks golden, but brown, but fairly light, but like his eyes, but like honey, but like—

“Thanks…”

She plays in his hair for a bit longer, getting it damp. Touseling, not tangling. Now that she’s touching it, she feels more confident. This will be a breeze. She did a pretty good job on herself, after all.

She swaps out her spray bottle for her comb. “Look down for a sec,” she requests, pressing on his jaw with her index finger. His skin is warm, and he bows his head immediately in response to the touch. She combs down a section of hair at the nape of his neck, then places it between her index and middle finger, sliding down to leave the ends, which she snips carefully with her shears. Yeah, that seems to be a good length. Shorter, but not short.

“I like this song.”

“Hm?”

“This song, it’s not bad, I like it.”

Man overboard 

Throw him a line

… 

He gave it all for love

“Me too. This is side B. The other side is even better, though.”

They lapse into silence for a little bit as she makes the judicious first cuts. It’s not awkward, just chill. Cozy, like a nice library. 

He keeps accidentally straightening his neck, and each time, she gently tips his head back down for him. Otherwise, he stays very still. In practically no time, she’s done evening out the length of the back, so she moves on to the sides. She sticks to her technique, pulling the hair tight and flat between two fingers and then trimming the ends, angling her shears to keep the cuts light-handed. 

“I kinda wanna make the sides a little shorter than the back, okay? But I’m gonna leave the top pretty long.”

“Yeah, no, you can do whatever. I don’t…really care.”

She grins. “Is that true?”

“You’re the professional here. You get creative freedom.”

She passes her comb through his hair and snips more. She tries thinning it out by closing the blades of the scissors only partially, letting the hair slip through them. It worked well for her this morning, and it works well now. 

The task is therapeutic. She feels sleepy watching his hair fall back into place after being let go of. Like a lazy silken cascade. It’s weird how small things like this have the power to sweeten her mood when other small things drive her crazy. Weird, but not to be complained about. It’s Friday night, she’s got her hands in some Soft Boy Hair, and she’s content. As she finishes up on the opposite side, she steps back to examine the big picture. The left side may be choppier, to some degree, but get real—she can’t make him look too good or she’ll fail English.

When it’s time for the top, she takes her place in front of him. His stare is directed at the carpet. 

Like before, she tilts his jaw herself, pushing upward with the pads of her fingers, her thumb resting against the corner of his mouth. Perhaps it’s rude of her, being this touchy with him. But since nothing gets much of a reaction out of him, she wonders what her limits are. 

She reins her focus in, though there’s less work to do on these sections. She pulls a piece from the top, holding it at a ninety-degree angle, and cuts illiberally to preserve the length.

It’s surprising that she was able to make this whole thing happen. He’s hard to get a hold of at school and plays defense every time they have a conversation. It was way worse last year, around Christmastime. Then, he was a ghost; she only saw him when he wasn’t there. And he was never there. She imagined it. 

She also waited. She waited for him to show himself and stop being an incorporeal chicken. (Yes, a chicken. A scaredy-cat. All synonyms apply.) He didn’t, and she went to Steve because she needed at least one friend. After that happened, she actually saw him more. Then a little more in the summer (but he worked a lot), and now, even with a gun to her head, she couldn’t tell you—she couldn’t tell you if they’re truly friends or if they’re truly not. 

So she’s, what, his stylist? His English class partner? His enemy? 

His creator? Did she create him? That monster could have bitten his head off in November (monsters must love chicken), and she could have been tripping on trauma this whole time, having visions of him. It’s morbid but—he can’t be real, can he? Who in the real world has the ability to make himself invisible whenever he pleases? And, oh, he pleases.  

(The Top Five places in which Jonathan has somehow hidden from her include: at school when there was a mandatory fire drill, at school when there was a mandatory assembly, at her house when there was a New Year’s Eve party which he did attend, at his own workplace when he was working, and finally, at his house when his car was parked in the driveway. She was dropping off a gift from her mom. Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Conveniently, he was showering, or that’s what Joyce said. Who the hell has such bad luck that they happen to be in the shower when there are warm chocolate chip cookies being delivered to them? A very unlucky person.)

If she died, he’d probably hide from her at the funeral, crouching behind her casket.  

“Nancy?”

“Yeah?”

“Is Blondie your favorite band of all time, or is there something else?” 

“Well, I love Debbie Harry a lot—close your eyes—so they’re definitely up there.” She trims his bangs carefully and lets them fall down over his nose bridge, surely tickling him. “Why? You think they’re not good enough to be my favorite?”

“No, I didn’t say that. I mean, I thought it but—”

“Jonathan! You just said you liked it.”

“The music is kind of…confusing? The lyrics don’t match the sound which doesn’t match her voice which—”

“Stop it, her voice is perfect. Your problem is that you haven’t listened to enough of the music.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” she confirms, ruffling his bangs to gauge their thinness, “but if I had to choose someone other than her, I would say Stevie Nicks. I love Fleetwood Mac a lot.”

“Yeah, so does everyone.” 

“Well I love them a lot more than everyone. Stop trying to insult me when I have scissors in my hand.”

He huffs, crossing his arms. 

*

His haircut comes to an end, but after a quick blow-dry, she informs him that she’s not quite done with him. She wants to style his hair. Only slightly. Nothing dramatic.

He’s getting just a little bit antsy, like maybe he’s sick of being turned away from the mirror. She unscrews the lid off her small jar of leave-in conditioner and smells it, out of habit. 

“Oh my God, I love this stuff.” She holds the jar under his nose to let him survey its scent. His brow furrows as he smells and vets it; he’s trying to connect it to a memory. 

She uses it every day. Does he take notice of it at school? Me, that’s what it reminds you of. It smells like me. Tell me you like it.  

“I like it,” the mind reader says, “it’s strong, though.”

Is he okay with that? Something that comes on a little strong? Strong personality, bossiness, competitive edge, ability to scare boys off…does he like those things? 

“Peppermint oil,” she replies, “it helps your hair grow.”

She steps forward. Freezes in front of him while she contemplates. After a beat, she begins transferring the product from hand to head. She’s addicted to it now—playing with his hair. As she runs her fingers through it, short nails softly scraping his scalp, it feels smooth, like lukewarm water flowing over her skin. It looks so good already, different but not too different, as she pushes it around, shaping it how she wants. It’s cooperative with her as she strokes his bangs, pushing them off his forehead some. Giving them lift.

There, just like that. He looks handsome. 

“Why do I feel like you’re taking this too seriously?”

She smiles, hands still in his hair. “I’m a professional…”

Her motions grow purposeless. She’s not really styling him anymore. Just doesn’t want to stop touching his hair. She slides her hands through the sides, slower than slow-motion, moving downward to smooth down the waves on the back of his neck. He is avoiding eye contact with her, she knows, because she is so close to him. 

The silence is louder than it was before. 

She shouldn’t stare at him, but that’s exactly what she’s doing now, hands fixed on either side of his neck and practically cradling his face. She tries to count the lashes which obscure his lowered eyes. With her eyes, she draws imaginary lines along the sharp angles of his cheekbones and nose. “You said it yourself that I’m a professional,” she murmurs quietly, spacing out, “and I promise, it looks good.” Her knee nudges itself between his legs, so subtle, and she watches for the quirk of his mouth. Is this the boundary? Is this it? React to me now. React. “It looks,” her thumbs softly massage both sides of his jaw, “super, super good.”

Finally, he swallows hard and dares to look up at her. Her heart is pounding, muffling the vinyl, and though she needs to look away from him, she can’t. A surge of affection comes and capsizes her center of gravity. 

She’d be safer leaning over the edge of a precipice, about to fall headfirst into a pit of jagged rocks. 

Their completely inappropriate eye-contact—completely inappropriate for stylist and client, for English project partner and partner, for enemy and enemy, for creator and creation—lasts for five more seconds, then…

A chorus of tween screams in the basement deafens her, echoing through the whole house. They both startle. The second her hands are back at her sides, she feels more sober. More in control of herself.

Apparently, the boys are really bad at anticipating jumpscares in horror movies.

“Jesus,” she whispers, moving round the chair, “they’re so loud.”

“Y-yeah…” He sounds terrified.

“Um, I-I’m gonna get these towels up, then you can see if you like it.” 

See? Fever dream. And not a real person. What was he gonna do, just look up at her like a deer in the headlights forever while she undressed him with her eyes and massaged the hinges of his jaw? If she had given in, if she had kissed him, would he have even moved? Or was he just gonna sit there with his pretty hair and sharp cheekbones and let her get away with everything…

She ignores her racing heart and carefully folds up the towels on the floor, making sure to keep the hair clippings on the inside. She removes the towel from his shoulders, rolling it up to place on her desk. She would dust off his shirt, but she’s done touching him. “Okay, you can go look.”

As she stacks the other towels and lines up her tools in a neat row, he approaches the mirror. “Oh, okay, so you actually did good—”

“Jonathan!”

So we’re just gonna pretend we didn’t have a…moment? 

“I couldn’t see what you were doing! You could have been trying to make me blonde, for all I knew.”

“First of all,” she joins him in front of the mirror, “you’re not that far from being blonde. And come on, I did great! I cut my hair perfectly, I cut your hair perfectly, I’m a professional now, so say ‘thank you.’”

He blushes. “Thank you.” 

She studies their reflections. They’ve changed so much in a year. They look good together.

Tired, yes, but good together.

“Let me go put these in the wash, and I’m gonna tell Mike not to scream so loud. Hey, do you wanna watch something? In the living room? My parents won’t be home for another hour, we can be alone downstairs.”

He hugs himself tightly, probably waiting for his invisibility cloak to fly in through the window and save him. She can almost hear the excuse before he says anything. “Um, I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

“Oh.”

“My mom’s getting off work right now, so I should really go make dinner for her.”

“Right, well that’s…that’s nice of you.”

“I mean, if I don’t, she may not eat, so…”

“Maybe you should tell her new boyfriend he needs to take her out to dinner more.” 

She’s smiling, but Jonathan bristles at the mention of the guy. “Sure,” he mutters. 

*

They say their goodbyes, and soon, she’s right back in her bed. Knees to her chest, pillow in her arms, and on the verge of crying. It was stupid of her: chopping off her hair today. She thought it meant everything, she thought it signified an internal change, but it didn’t. It was a faulty coping mechanism that followed bullshit logic. 

She likes her hair like this, and she feels pretty with it, but when is she ever going to learn that self-medicating her PTSD with bullshit is only making her more depressed? She let her best friend die, and she has to do something about it soon. Bleaching her hair won’t make things better, buying tighter clothes won’t make things better, and kissing Jonathan? Extremely enticing—more enticing than a glass of water is in the middle of the desert—but it won’t make things better. Not right now. Not yet. 

Doing anything besides helping the Holland family gain closure is self-sabotage.

And on Monday morning, when she catches Ashley from her English class undressing Jonathan with her eyes, she realizes that giving him a haircut was self-sabotage, too...

[post-modern-prometheus]

from a writing stand point why write Will’s crush on Mike for seasons atp just for it to have absolutely no impact on any other character outside of Will’s own storyline and for Will to end up where he started. all this build up and the fact that it's taken so long, i'm okay with, considering i'm pretty certain as to where it's headed. but it really wouldn't make sense if it was just unrequited bc will would end the story being mike and el's third wheel all over again and that'd just be miserable. i would have even preferred will moving on with someone else this season over him ending the season in that position again lol. but the duffers are good writers, so TRUST hahahaha.

at this point, a good amount of the reason why i need byler to happen is just to assuage my fears that the writers don't actually know what they're doing. we've come up with these brilliant theories about the upside down and how it works and why everything happened, but how can we trust them to pull off that if they can't even do this one thing. all the little moments are all leading up to this. if they just buckle and go for the boring trope of sad pining gay in love with his best friend who is straight obviously and doesn't like him back then not only have they missed a great opportunity, but also a lot of what i loved about the writing of the show is kind of... gone. it's just. that's the reason i'm so nervous is because i need this to happen, or else my entire perception of the writers' skill and my own abilities of media literacy and comprehension are skewed. like wtf is that stancy/mlvn parallel.